Jedi Mercenary: Rise of the Mandalorian
by Diabolico
Summary: The Jedi Academy is restablished, but a threat from the past and a mysterious appearance of deadly Sith assassins leaves the Jedi with one hope a disenchanted survivalist of the once strong Mandalorian race with an incredible potential for the force . .
1. The Trip to Glade 6

The twin suns rose over the bloody red horizon of Glade 6, the last of the six moons in the Glade system, and home to some of the galaxy's most criminal and nefarious villains. Azekel Jakome frowned; suspicious, as he walked slowly from his Academy space cruiser in the moon capital's main hangar bay. The seedy, lizard like denizens of the dim bays giving him space as he strolled cautiously from the Jedi Academy marked spacecraft and out into the main planetary reception lobby, his lightsaber tapping his side comfortably as the loose, light brown robes of a newly ordained Jedi Knight furled in the slight breeze that ran through the corridors of the airy hangar.

"Hello, sir, and welcome to Glade 6 Trans-galactic Hangar Bay Eighteen ..." a dusty, aged droid chimed as he strolled by without looking. He had no time for the lip service to formality of this criminal planet; his first mission for the Jedi Academy would run smoothly and without incident, he had decided. Master Skywalker and the New Republic had decided on the new Knight to lead a tentative envoy to this despicable backwater hive in order to facilitate governmental harmony and accord that would hopefully bring treaties and protection to the planet through the New Republic Organization of Allies for Intergalactic Justice.

"I have no time, droid, I know my way around." He dismissed the mechanoid impatiently, scanning the corridors for trouble that didn't come as he stalked out into the open mega-dome of the planet capital. Sensing a presence behind him, the Jedi turned his head around, his shoulder length black hair swishing about as the man stalking behind him pulled up to a stop. Azekel was momentarily stunned.

"Hello, Jedi." The voice was thin and mechanical to match the armor covered man behind him. Azekel turned around, not believing his eyes. Never in the young Jedi's life had he seen true Mandalore armor, as beaten and battered as this being's was, and Azekel felt a faint wave of apprehension shudder up his back as he thought back to the once proud, deadly race that had caused so many Jedi suffering and death before and during the clone wars. Composing himself from the momentary surprise, the Knight adapted a neutral look.

"That's a nice costume, friend. Can I help you?" He said, trying to hide the unease in his voice. The last of the men to wear the armor of the Mandalore had been the ruthless mercenary and killer Boba Fett, killed over the pit of Carkoon by Jakome's own Master Luke Skywalker as his friends and he escaped the villainous clutches of Fett's one time employer, Jabba the Hut. That had been more than ten years ago, Azekel reminded himself with assurance, and Fett was long since dead; digested and rotten in the stomach of the Sarlaac monster in the pit of Carkoon.

"Yes, it is original Mandalore armor; constructed in the since destroyed primitive factories on Kamino." The figure hissed, nodding slightly. The Jedi Knight felt a strange presence growing about the man as they conversed, and apparently the feeling of apprehension had traveled to the scant passersby as they ducked out of sight or hurried past with fearful glances. "It is a true relic of the pre-clone wars, Jedi; a time before your kind nearly wiped out the race of Mandalorians completely."

Jakome was taken aback by these words, spoken with obvious hate and derision toward the Jedi elite Master Skywalker had just begun to reconstruct after their own obliteration by the recently defeated Empire.

"Your sense of history is somewhat skewed, bounty hunter, as I am supposing you are; the Jedi helped vanquish the evil Mandalorian race for its acts of barbarism and ruthless tyranny!" He corrected, according to the teachings of the old books of the Jedi Academy, though he had remembered Master Skywalker talk about the 'unjust acts of the Mandalorian wars.'

"Barbarians? Tyrants?" The armored figure spat through his voice box, "These are the words my people are described with? You Jedi have not changed at all, even after your sorry defeat by the Empire!" The Mandalorian jumped back as he yelled these last few sentences, and the Jedi sensed the explosion of anger in his opponent as his lightsaber came up, merely in a defense posture; Jakome was surprised, however, as the Mandalorian, if he really was one, brandished his own crude saber, its red light hissing into activation as the man sunk into a perfect saber attacking posture.

"A lightsaber," Azekel frowned, although slightly impressed at the craftsmanship, "An unusual weapon for a child of the Mandalore. Where did you get it?"

At this the mercenary seemed to almost laugh in mocking reply.

"One of your friends lent it to me, of course. It is a blade of the last of the Sith warriors of this time, a killer of hundreds of your Jedi people; and today it shall kill again!" He growled evilly as he struck, lightening fast, _too_ fast, for a normal man, the hate radiating all about him as Azekel was pushed back by the forceful assault. Stepping back from the rabid Mandalorian, the Jedi regained his posture and tried to compose himself once, more, but was defending again in moments, the ruthless, hate-driven charge of the mercenary giving him no time to breath. In minutes the Jedi found himself back nearly to the wall by this uncanny foe in nearly ancient armor.

"Ah! Your powers in the force are strong!" He gasped between counterattacks the mercenary easily parried. "but your hate will betray you, come, end this fight!" he yelled as the sabers cracked and sputtered against one another.

"You fear me, Jedi?" spat back the armored warrior, "Or does a Jedi always seek to trick his opponent into ease, then slit his back open?"

The Mandalorian sprang, but Jakome had used the moment of relief to leap up to the hangar roof support beams high overhead, the force propelling him beyond the reach of any known creature in the galaxy. As good as this mercenary scum was with a lightsaber, and as fast as he had trained to be, Jakome thought, the force was not strong enough with him to propel him this high; forgetting the mission he had been sent here for, the Jedi searched his mind for a way to get this anomaly of the force back to Yavin 5 with him. Master Skywalker and the rest of the new council would be shocked to see an outsider exhibit such skill, though hateful and suspiciously Sith-like, in the force.

"Mercenary," He shouted down at the waiting soldier, "You are indeed talented with the lightsaber, and show much promise in the ways of the force; my masters and teachers would love to see your skill and talent at the Jedi Academy, if you would only end this useless fight and come with me to my ship!"

"Now you see you cannot win so you seek to compromise?" shouted the Mandalorian, "I will never join the despicable Jedi!" and with that he leapt, incredibly high for a humanoid, yet not so high as to reach the Knight's perch. The armored man landed evenly on his feet back on the ground to glare up at the unreachable Jedi. Unlike his predecessor Fett, Jakome noticed, this Mandalorian didn't have a rocket-jet pack, but he shuddered to think about what sorts of other surprises the killer had hidden in his armor. Suddenly, out of nowhere the Jedi was hit with a disturbance in the force nearby, and he pulled his eyes from the crouched mercenary to scan the space below for the source of this new presence.

"Jedi!" came a shout from behind him, and he turned, shocked again to be confronted by yet another lightsaber.

"Who ... ?"

"Scared, Jedi? You should be!" laughed the Sith evilly, his black robes gleaming eerily by the red light of his lightsaber as he sprang forward to Jakome's support beam with a cackle of hateful delight, his saber slicing viciously downwards in a move to disembowel the surprised Jedi Knight. Azekel fell back in surprise, his own green saber barely lifted in time to deflect the attack as he felt the support beam slip away from under his boots and he began to fall.


	2. Jedi Academy

Falling freely, Azekel frantically tried to spin around and distinguish up from down, slowing his descent with slightly with a gentle push from the force. Seconds before he hit the ground the Knight spun around and thumped down on his boots, rolling rapidly away from the falling lightsaber of the Sith, who had followed him down to the Hangar floor.

"Stay off of him, Sith!" the Mandalorian cried angrily as he rushed up to where the two combatants faced each other. "The Jedi is mine!" and with that he charged the black-robed warrior.

Jakome was shocked at how well both of the two fought as he pulled back his saber to watch. The two red sabers hissed and crashed viciously against one another, their masters grunting and charging, countering and ducking feverishly as the Jedi stood back, nearly overwhelmed by the speed and tenacity of the two hate-driven fighters before him. The Mandalorian obviously had an upper hand on the Sith with the heavy armor he wore that could no doubt field off a wild saber slice, but the swordsmanship was definitely on the side of the Sith as he whirled and spun furiously to counter and batter the mercenary's sloppy offenses and last-second defense moves. Jakome couldn't decide who to jump in for, but he soon had no choice as the Sith broke free from a blade lock and cast his pale hand out, sending the Mandalorian flying backwards into a pile of cautious spectators who fell and fled like a pack of hunted rentarons.

"Now your turn, Jedi!" laughed the Sith as he wiped a film of sweat from his brow and faced the Knight. Squaring off, the Knight leapt forward to somersault over the Sith, slashing at an odd angle with shocking precision at the Sith's throat; a killing blow that was barely parried as the dark Jedi glanced his blade high and flipped backwards and away with an angry snarl.

"Your mercy will be your undoing, Jedi!" He screeched, but the fear in his voice was just as evident as his hatred as he thrust forward again to be parried by the Jedi's green saber. Spinning wildly away and tossing his saber to his inside hand, the Jedi swung upwards and through his dark opponent's midsection, tearing him open from the inside of his thigh to the opposite armpit across his body; dropping him with a horrible, hate filled scream of pain and anger. The Sith dropped to his knees, his singed flesh momentarily visible before he fell forward onto his face and moved no more.

"Goddamned Jedi." A scratchy voice groaned from behind him as the bounty hunter rose to his feet amidst the dispersing crowd of spectators. "I could've taken him."

"You are indeed a strong swordsman, and have a superior potential for the force, mercenary, but the Sith are dangerous beyond your abilities." Jakome replied.

"I could've iced him, easy, you damned Jedi, like I can still do to you." Replied the Mandalorian hatefully as his lightsaber once again sprang to life.

Azekel sighed heavily, shaking his head sadly as he held his free hand out, pulling the gleaming red blade from the mercenary's gloved fist and spinning neatly into his own. He looked it over as the Mandalorian cried out in surprise and anger.

"A weathered, ancient blade, no doubt, but effective, perhaps, with some repair and modification ..."

"Give it back, Jedi, or you'll be killed seven times over before your miserable corpse hits the ground!" growled the mercenary threateningly, his right wrist flashing up to fire a blaster round straight at the Jedi's face.

Dropping his opponent's blade, the Jedi brought his saber up to deflect the blow back towards where the Mandalorian had been standing, but the armored man had meanwhile dove to the ground and pulled the red saber weakly across the floor and back into his hand, rolling hard over his shoulders and swinging the deadly light blade hard over his head in a move that would have castrated the Jedi had he not back flipped safely away. Landing lightly on his boots, Azekel shot out a hand to pummel the charging Mandalorian backwards, flying back wildly to crash with a sickening thud into the far wall, his helmet jerking up for a moment in a stubborn attempt to stand up, before he slumped, unconscious against the wall with a final curse and a groan of dull pain.

"So, what have you brought us, Jakome?" Good news so soon from the Glade system?" echoed a rough voice from somewhere far above and to the right. "What's this?"

"A Mandalorian!" shouted another voice, off to the left.

"It's Fett! I thought Commander Solo had finished him off years ago!" rang in a third voice, and the mercenary heard the distinct 'click' of a blaster being drawn from a hip holster.

"NO! Wait, Lei!" shouted another, as three to four fuzzy shadows became suddenly outlined against a glaringly bright light. The Mercenary tried weakly to reach for his visor light adjuster through the haze, but his arms and body felt strangely heavy as he went limp again.

"He's moving; why don't we just blast him now and avoid all the trouble that comes with these damned Mandalorians?"

"He's a skilled and talented potential student, Lei; he is already an expert by normal standards with the lightsaber, and he can even utilize the force for limited bursts of superhuman speed and other simple skills. We have to take him to Master Skywalker immediately. Come on, grab his legs, he can't break the titaron lines I strung him with."

There was a brief moment of shuffling about him, and then the mercenary felt strangely weightless as the shadowy silhouettes grew larger and larger in front of his visor, and then straightened as he once again lost consciousness.

"This is strange, Azekel," Luke Skywalker said, his kind and enlightened features in a confused frown as he studied the Mercenary's helmet in his hands. "No doubt this is true Mandalorian armor, not Fett's, to be sure, but the jury _is_ still out on whether he's dead or not ..."

"He is very skilled in the use of a lightsaber," Azekel commented neutrally, "and, perhaps even more stunning, his focus on the force is very strong, only unguided, without direction."

"I don't doubt it, Jakome," Skywalker agreed, his dark blue eyes closing for a moment as he sighed slightly, "I felt the force in him before you brought him to my chamber ... so much hate in him, though ..."

Azekel stepped forward to the Jedi Master's side as Skywalker examined the other articles of the mercenary's armor and clothing spread out on the table in front of them.

"That problem has been overcome in the past, Master." He said softly, his eyes staring down into the blank and tinted visor of the helmet before him, "Remember how you found me? I had _nothing_ but anger for the whole _galaxy_ in me, but you helped me to change that ..."

Skywalker sighed again, his mind focusing on the senses all about him as he weighed the choice he had with this mysterious new series of events. Surely Jakome wasn't thinking of teaching him himself? Azekel had just passed the trials to reach Jedi Knighthood, and wouldn't be ready to face the far more daunting task of teaching a student; especially one who had tried to kill him only a few hours before.

"Azekel, I don't think it'd be such a good idea for you to ..." but his student cut him off.

"No, it wouldn't, Master; I am not ready for a protégée. But _someone_ could teach him, perhaps. The force is so _strong_ in him!"

Luke put the helmet lightly on the table in front of him and began to pace slowly back across the room to his meditation perch above the windows over the courtyards of beautiful, tropical Yavin 5; home to the newly reestablished Jedi Academy. A handful of students, all known by sight to Skywalker, many since before they learned to talk, ran about in the gardens below; children, seen as gifted and potential candidates for Jedi Knighthood by the first of Luke's personally selected Knights, the children of all different species and ages across the galaxy flaunted their sensational powers, using their limited teachings in the force to bend blades of grass, lift small pebbles or splash water from the reflecting pools on their mates. This is what Luke had to protect; these precious hopefuls and future leaders and protectors of the free galaxy, as well as the older, more harshly trained adolescent and young adult students who were no doubt huddled inside, lost in meditation trying to lift boulders or shift piles of stone from across the room, or engaging in mock battles with their safety lightsabers under the watchful eyes of their instructors. Could he, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, be putting all of these hopefuls and successes in jeopardy by trying to take in this ominous hopeful outcast? He breathed deeply once more as he felt his student's eyes on his back, then turned.

"The young man will be given the choice to attend the academy, if he so chooses, and made to feel at home while he stays with us." He sighed, hoping he had just made the right choice, and not doomed the students and teachers below to some horrible fate hidden behind the battered faceplate in front of him.


	3. The Mercenary

The Mandalorian awoke with a start, his hands raised instinctively to cover his face. No helmet, no armor ... no weapons ... He assessed his situation quickly and as calmly as he could. The Jedi! He thought, a brief wave of anger spreading through him, warming his limbs enough to make him suddenly aware of the cold about him. His eyes, cold and grey, surveyed the room about him, searching the corners and blank, white walls for any hint of a weapon or covering; he noticed with a scowl that he lay on top of a long table in the center of a large, bright white room, a single wooden chair and metal table set near the door. Standing tentatively, he noticed his clothing; loose, hospital-like robes with no under garments; he walked to the table. There lay before him an array of odd medical supplies and some used Bacta containers, as well as a hypodermic needle marked with the medical insignia for an anesthetic. He'd been drugged and apparently worked on, he surmised, though he felt no different than usual, only a slight ache in his head where ... where the Jedi had knocked him out cold against the hangar wall on Glade 6! He growled menacingly to himself as he further inspected the chair and table; the wood, a softer, smoother grain than most trees on the dry moons of Glade, evidenced the Mandalorian's guess that the Jedi had taken him off the Glade system and to some planet where the foliage in place was softer, more fine ... swamp trees, he decided, from the vast swampy jungles of Yavin 5, the home planet of the newly reestablished Jedi Academy.

"Damn that Jedi!" he cursed under his breath, "I'll have to kill a hundred of them to get out of the hospital alone!" He checked the hypodermic needle; nearly empty, with probably only enough drug to knock out a single guard or orderly; he rummaged about the stripped walls and room, looking for another means of escape or defense.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian froze by the wall; concentrating hard, he verified his force-guided instincts; someone was coming, and they weren't just some ordinary medic or guard; the sense of the force about this entity was stronger than anything the mercenary had ever felt before. He ducked quickly behind the door, knowing how foolish the gesture was; this being would no doubt sense exactly where he was before he'd even opened the door. He held the needle tight in his fist and tried to control his breathing.

"Hello, Mandalorian guest." said a voice outside the door. "A sense you are awake and doing well?"

The mercenary took a deep breath. It was hopeless, yes, but the warrior in him told him to try anyway ... he held his mouth shut.

"He is awake; I feel his anger, though he seeks to mask himself, Master Skywalker." Said another voice, muffled through the metal door plating, but still audible. It was THAT Jedi, the one who'd taken him here, as well as the infamous Luke Skywalker, vanquisher of the Emperor as well as the tyrant Sith, Darth Vader. He quickly weighed his options; either face-off, weaponless and nearly naked, with the greatest Jedi Master since the clone wars _and_ perhaps his best student, or give himself up now and try to sneak his way off the planet at a later opportunity.

"What have you brought me here for, Jedi?" He asked thinly, through the door.

"We only wish to speak with you, friend." It was Skywalker, "Azekel here tells me you have an amazing ability in the force, and we'd like to see if we can help you develop it."

The Mandalorian smirked, despite his hopeless situation.

"What the hell gives you the right to bring me here?" He ordered, his anger ebbing out his caution.

"Well, you _did_ attack one of my students ..." Skywalker's tone was calm yet commanded attention, this Jedi wasn't to be screwed with in the wrong situation, so, the mercenary decided, he'd screw with him some more, just to piss him off.

"You repulsive Jedi killed my people! The Mandalorians were ousted from our home world, hunted and destroyed! There is only me left now, thanks to you bastard Jedi!" He spat angrily, feeling his hate and fury build up within him, knowing Skywalker felt it too, but not caring anymore. He wanted his revenge, he'd _earned _it for years, cultivating his strange gifts in the force and wielding that ancient red lightsaber, the one whom Darth Vader himself had been rumored to have used during his holocaust on the Jedi after the opening of the Clone Wars.

"I understand your pain at this tragic historic event, Mandalorian;" Skywalker replied, his tone soothing and gentle in the face of his captive's anger, "but you must understand; of the participants in that war of misunderstanding not one survives today, I try to teach everyone here about the _truth_ of the incident; that your tyrant opposition fingered unjustly you Mandalorians for crimes to the Republic and incited a war."

"Lies! They were all lies, Skywalker!"

"I understand your argument, Mandalorian, I do, and we here will seek to sooth your anger and quell your hate; we can guide you to inner calmness and oneness with the justice of the force." The Jedi Master's voice explained as the mercenary's grip on the needle loosened somewhat. "Listen, whoever you are, the Jedi have since our order began sought only to bring justice and peace to the galaxy; if you join us, let us help you release your anger and hate, then you will be in a position to make sure no such injustices as your people's genocide ever happen again."

The hospital corridor was silent for several minutes while the two Jedi stood outside the metal doorway to the mercenary's room, the door unlocked by Skywalker's orders, and waiting for a reply from the Mandalorian. Suddenly, the door opened with a soft hiss and the two Jedi stepped back, seeing the robed and still cautious man before them.

"My name is Jaster Mereel," He said, "named for one of the last great warriors of my people before the clone wars."


	4. The Arena Showdown

"Listen to me, Mandalorian;" spat Jaster's opponent from the upper balcony of the academy stadium. "You'd better just hang up your robes, or I'll make sure you regret it!"

Jaster grinned as he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and gazed up at the insurmountable gap between himself and his fellow student, whose force-powered leap had placed him miles above the Mandalorian after a vicious battle Jaster had definitely came out worse from.

"Come down and fight, Jedi." He tried to maintain what Jakome called 'his temper' and not become angry at this arrogant prick's taunts, but this bastard was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Linux!" the Jedi Knight's voice boomed out from the observation area off to the pair's right, scolding the Jedi brat for his tone. "Watch your tones, my two swordsmen!"

"Tell him to face me like he's got a pair, Azekel." Jaster sneered, more to Linux than for the Knight's benefit.

"Jaster! What did I _just_ say?" the Jedi snapped shortly, but the ploy had worked and an angry Linux landed next to the Mandalorian, his green safety saber darting quickly in to cut at Jaster's side.

"So you want another beating, do you, mercenary?" the brat jeered, though his rashly aimed blow was easily deflected by the Mandalorian, who leapt backwards with a weak counter aimed at Linux' stomach. Landing a few feet away from the Jedi apprentice, Jaster had just enough time to set his feet before having to leap again to avoid a follow up charge.

"And they say _you_ gave Master Jakome a challenge?" Laughed Linux haughtily, "You run like a coward from a _student!_" Jaster grimaced under another blow, countering weakly to the student's right then slashing hard up across his opponent's face, a blow that was easily parried. Thinking fast, the Mandalorian tried to recall just how he had held up against the Jedi Knight, _this_ brat's _teacher_, in the Hangar bay on Glade 6 just a few months ago. He'd had the element of surprise, for sure, as well as ... anger ...

"Jaster!" cried the Knight from far below, sensing the Mandalorian's change, but he had no time to stop the events that followed, they happened so fast.

Linux, following the Mandalorian on a leapfrog journey up a series of platforms across the training arena, never had a chance to see the attack coming. Thrusting his arm out suddenly, the Mandalorian drew on the built up anger he'd been foolishly repressing during the past few months here and knocked the unsuspecting student backwards to the hard second main platform, his practice saber skittering across the floor as he landed with a hard thud. His legs pumping with forceful hate, Jaster landed lightly beside his opponent before Linux had a chance to stand or gather his saber to his hand and brought his own red safety saber down hard onto the Jedi hopeful's chest. The brief static sting of the safe blade didn't do justice to the rage unleashed in the Mandalorian's strikes as Linux shielded his face feebly with his arms.

"You want a fight, Jedi brat? I'll give you a _fight_!" Jaster laughed, his eyes flaming wickedly as he pushed the prone Linux up hard against a nearby pillar with another painful thud. The red saber cut ruthlessly across the youth's chest and stung Linux' face as Jaster easily parried the hapless apprentice's own weak force push, and then concentrated on the student's gasping throat ...

"_Jaster!_" The Knight's tone was urgent now, and Mereel dropped his prey instinctively to parry Azekel's own blade as the Knight landed next to the two from the observation platform below. "What do you think you're doing!"

Back-flipping agilely away from the Knight's defense, Jaster's hate transferred to his tentative teacher as he charged back in, his former tiredness vanished and his attacks fast and ruthless. Caught off guard once again by the Mandalorian's onslaught, Azekel backpedaled away and pushed hard at the young man in front of him, sending the Mandalorian flying backwards, but Jaster reoriented himself and landed easily on his feet in the set defense position.

"Come on, Jedi!" He taunted, "Is that the best you've got, old man?" His defense stance melted away to a new charge as the two sabers locked in combat again as Linux slid up from the wall, his hand caressing his throat gingerly as he watched the two spin and flip lightning fast before him, Azekel being once again pushed back ever so gradually.

"Ah!" Jaster cried, breaking free from a blade lock suddenly and pushing Jakome backwards into the far pillar across the platform to a chorus of gasps and cries of surprise from the students below. Jillian Ansk and Al-Gere Korst, the class' best sword fighters leapt up to the platform as Azekel leapt to his feet and Jaster turned to meet these newcomers to the fight.

"So many Jedi for one opponent?" Jaster growled under his breath, his long brown hair swishing this way and that as he scanned his enemies; for that is how he now saw them, how he always remembered seeing them ...

Jillian sprang first, her purple blade flashing brilliantly to knock the Mandalorian back, but Jaster parried and slashed across her stomach, doubling the student over and then shoving her lightly aside to parry a follow-up from Al-Gere, who soon tumbled backwards and over the ledge of the platform with a grunt of pain and surprise. Azekel again locked the young Mandalorian in a blade draw and gritted a few words in between thrusts and defenses.

"Don't let way to your hate, Jaster!" He tried, "Let yourself calm down; you are merely _training_, there is no need for hostility here!"

"Save it, Azekel," spat back the Mandalorian shortly, "Your damned self control is your weakness!" And he struck heavy across the Knight's defense, battering the Jedi's defense again and just barely catching his balance after the teacher's force push to send Azekel tottering back to keep his balance. Seeing Jillian and Al-Gere preparing for a new assault, the Mandalorian leapt, incredibly high, impossibly high for the two apprentices, to the top platform to regain his posture and better prepare should more of the Jedi decide to join the fray.

"Hey you!" shouted a voice from behind him, and he whirled just in time to lock blades with a strange young woman he'd not seen at the academy before. Her light brown hair pulled back in a fighter's tail behind her and her higher student robes furled loosely about her frame, the Mandalorian regardless saw she was exquisitely beautiful from her face and build. He allowed a slight grin as they held blades.

"Stay out of this, cutie pie; I'm a pretty dangerous man, if you hadn't noticed." He jeered at her. To his slight surprise the girl only smiled.

"You're pretty angry, yes, but I don't think you're all that dangerous." Their sabers crackled and sparked under their holds as Jaster frowned now and replied, less haughtily.

"What makes you so sure?" He heard the thump of Azekel landing behind him, but he didn't much care as the two blades eased up in the lock and the girl's smile broadened a pinch.

"I see it in your eyes; you just need to learn a little more control."

Her blade pulled away and deactivated with a hiss as Jaster leaned back, his anger fading and being replaced by respect and just a bit of calmness. He spun his saber thoughtfully for a moment, aware that Azekel behind him hadn't moved any closer, and the rest of the students had eased off to let the girl talk him down ...

"It's a trick!" He whispered suddenly to himself, defensively, "You Jedi love your mind tricks ..." he said, but the girl shook her head.

"Your mind is too strong for an apprentice like me." She replied calmly, her saber in her belt and her voice level and honest. "You just have too much anger. Please, put down your saber and let's talk."

Jaster held his skeptical look for a fraction longer, and then relented, his saber crackling off and his stance relaxing. Azekel walked up as he gazed across neutrally at the girl's smile of approval.

"Jaster ..." The Knight's breathless tone of scolding began.

"You're just lucky I'm a sucker for a pretty woman, Azekel." Jaster cut him off, turning away from the girl and walking insolently away from the shocked Jedi. "Punish me later; I've got to talk to Skywalker." And he leapt easily down the platforms to the ground and the wary, angry looking students; but there was a measure of respect and even fear in their glares, so he strode passively past them to the doors.


	5. The Battered Lightsaber

"There was some trouble in the training room." Skywalker's voice echoed along the Academy meditation temple's long stone hallways. Jaster stopped in his tracks and folded his arms expectantly; waiting for the punishment. It didn't come, so he began his prepared speech.

"This isn't the place for me, Skywalker," He began, "I don't belong in the Academy, and I'm not sure what sort of trick you used to get me to agree to this nonsense." Skywalker cut him off passively, still seated, his back to the Mandalorian on a stone sledge in front of a large Jedi meditation circle on the temple floor.

"I didn't trick you, Jaster, no one did. You made the decision to join the academy like everyone else; of your own free will." He said. "I know your anger is deep, and I'm not sure how exactly you have managed to instruct yourself so effectively in the ways of the force, but your method relies on anger. Anger and the Dark Side flow together, and may seem the easier path, but the power stems from a weaker source. I hope these evils are not influencing you to abandon your studies here before you learn better control."

"Control!" Shouted Jaster, frustrated and suddenly very tired. "All I hear here is control and patience! I find only weakness in your style!"

At this the Jedi Master turned slowly to face the Mandalorian. His face was concerned, not offended or impatient, as the young man had thought it would be, and his reply was as fluid and calm as his demeanor.

"When you learn to control your anger; to manage and level out your hate, then you can harness the true power of the force; an immeasurable wealth of knowledge and insight through the force." Jaster sighed wearily as he heard the doors behind him slide open, dreading the arrival of Azekel and the immanent scolding he thought he would receive. The newcomer said nothing, however, and Mereel kept his eyes on Skywalker.

"The dark side is tempting, yes, it offers a quick route to power and ability, but the true insights and knowledge the side of light offers us will open the pathways to even greater ability and opportunities, and I fear that if you can't complete your training here, as hard as it may seem, that you may become as clouded and disillusioned as the man who once wielded your lightsaber."

Jaster sighed again, and looked down to the battered and aged weapon by his side. He thought the Jedi would have figured it out, but not so soon.

"How did you know?" He asked, almost remorseful for the feelings the discovery must have put the Master through. Skywalker shrugged.

"I've felt it's touch before," He said, his right hand rising into the light of the room, "It is the blade of my father, Anikan Skywalker, former right hand of the Emperor himself. How you got it I can only guess; a stormtrooper or other soldier found it discarded and forgotten in the final Death Star as I pulled him to the Hangars. I realized I missed it as I made my escape, but thought it was destroyed in the explosion. I can only assume someone carried it safely away and pawned it, perhaps, on some backwater planet to an eager young mercenary hopeful …"

Jaster nodded silently.

"Or that same hopeful stole it from the belongings of a drunken old soldier disillusioned with the new Republic and drowning his hate in Corellian Ale." He offered. Skywalker half smiled and looked ready to say more, but he was cut off by a voice from behind them.

"That is the lightsaber of Darth Vader himself?" The two looked around, and Jaster was more than surprised to find not Azekel but the young woman who had stared him down on the platforms. She saw his frown and hurried to explain. "I followed you out of the training center. I thought you were going to desert us." Jaster looked away and plunged back into his thought; should he leave still? He wasn't convinced at all that the way of the Jedi was the way for him.

"Jaster, you have met Lena?" Skywalker broke in on his thoughts, "She is one of the more advanced of our students for her age, and is nearing a level appropriate for preliminary Knighthood testing." He boasted for the red faced Lena.

"In a few years perhaps if I am fortunate." She added humbly. "Jaster? Is that your name, then, young Sith warrior?" she changed the subject.

"Lena; the Sith …" Skywalker began cautiously, but Mereel had held out his hand already to confront his comrade with a wicked grin.

"Jaster Mereel, last of the Mandalore race; and let it be known that the Sith tremble before my power." The Jedi Master shook his head exasperated behind them as the Jedi Apprentice and the Mandalorian recounted Mereel's battle in the arena.

"When did you come in to the arena? I had not seen you in the academy before today." Jaster was curious.

"I have actually just returned from my home system of Corellia, the festival of independence has just begun in the capital and I had been long missed by my parents and family." The student explained, "I was hoping to find Master Jakome when I came in to you trouncing the remainder of your classmates, you even gave Master Jakome a run for his credits."

Mereel lowered his head in half shame, half secretive pride as he caught Skywalker's upraised eyebrows. The Master had obviously not sensed _all _of the events that had occurred.

"We have had our differences, you could say." He allowed in a low voice, "Thank you for your help back there, Jedi woman." He added formally.

"Oh I am no Jedi, not yet, Jaster Mereel, for now call me Lena, Lena Gorakos." She held out her hand with an amiable smile.

"A pleasure to meet you, lady Gorakos, but I think I have to go now; Azekel will probably want to yell at me soon for bruising his class …"

"Please, Jaster," Skywalker interrupted politely, "try to learn to call him 'Master Jakome?' it might help you two get along better; and it is a honorable formality for when your own teacher accepts you as a padawan learner."

"So you're staying then?" Lena asked hopefully.

"For now, if 'Master' Azekel doesn't mind giving me a few more chances …" and with that he took his leave to search for the Knight. Lena turned with a pitying glance to the still seated Jedi Master.

"He's a tough one, Master."

"He sure is, Lena; but welcome back, how was your trip?" and the two conversed on.


	6. The Apprentice in the Courtyard

Azekel Jakome strolled purposefully down the well lit corridors of the Academy's main temple, his eyes scanning the walls of the ancient structure as he tried to build up an argument for what he had to say to his Master. Turning down the third hallway, the Jedi followed the shallow stairs down into the Academy's advanced training center. The doors slid open to a brilliant spectacle; the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker stood alone in the center of a glassed off training arena, his bright green lightsaber held slanting slightly across his front and his stance wide and grounded in the traditional defense posture. Floating about the Jedi where about seven seeker drones; small, floating, spinning globes of metal and blinking lights. As Azekel watched, the closest of the drones puffed suddenly and rapidly towards Luke, the stationary port on the front of the device emitting a flashing red laser beam, deflected easily and casually by the awaiting blade. The beam ricocheted back towards the drone, sending it spinning backwards and deactivated to crash to the floor.

As if on cue, the other drones began firing rapidly upon the surrounded form of the Jedi, and Jakome blinked twice under the ensuing lightening show of deflected and ricocheting lasers and hissing, muffled explosions. When he looked again, the Jedi Master was circled in piles of deactivated or destroyed seeker drones. The Knight made his entry as the Master's blade hissed off.

"Master Skywalker," He began, "I've been meditating long on the subject of the Mandalorian youth, Jaster Mereel." The Master turned.

"What have you decided?" He asked. The Knight took a deep breath.

"I am ready to take a student." He declared, his resolve final as Skywalker mulled the thought over.

"And you want permission to take on Jaster, correct?"

"I think I can help him, yes." Jakome sighed, sensing the Master's reluctance, "Master I know you are concerned with the recent return of the Sith, it is disturbing to think they could have reorganize so rapidly and become so powerful …"

"Azekel remember that Jaster has been having trouble controlling his anger in classroom and with his peers; he's made great progress, of course, but I'm just not quite sure he's ready for a Master yet …"

"Or that I'm quite ready for a student." Azekel finished the thought for the hesitant Master. Skywalker nodded slowly.

"That too, yes; the young man is a particularly unpredictable spirit I wouldn't feel confident pairing with even the more advanced of our Knights, and you have only just reached Knighthood. He may be quite a handful."

"Like I was when you first found me? Master I can help this young Mandalorian. Let him accompany me on a few diplomatic missions for the New Republic; I'm sure your connections in the Republic palace could assure compliance, and it would be good to talk to the lad alone. He might just be more ready than we think."

The Master sighed one last time, his face wrinkled in thought as he mulled over the plans of this, his newest Knight, and Jaster, perhaps his most difficult student. It might just be crazy enough to work out for the best, but the alternative could mean disaster.

"I suppose I could request a few rounds of the new Republic member systems for a Knight and his …" Azekel held his breath, "… and his new student, yes that could be arranged."

Jaster sat, crossed legged and with his eyes closed under the vision slits of his helmet, his flight suit minus the armor a comfort to his usual cotton Jedi robes. Meditating on the edge of consciousness, the Mandalorian barely heard the sound of footsteps behind him, but his senses picked up where his physical perceptions dimmed, and the force guided his 'vision'.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his eyes still closed with his back to the newcomer. He had felt that presence before, but his sense was that of a weak beginner still. The person behind him spoke then, bringing him out f his meditative concentration and similarly confirming his sense.

"Did you really sense who I was?" the girl asked him, her voice low in the night air. Jaster glimpsed down at his visor display and checked the time. It was well past midnight, the readout showed him.

"You're out awfully late, little Jedi woman." He continued, ignoring her question.

Lena sat down cross legged next to him on the Jedi Academy courtyard with a sigh, her robes furling slightly in the warm jungle breeze. Mereel sensed her slight annoyance with a half smile; he'd never known a woman who hadn't soon lost patience with him.

"Why are you always so cold to everyone?" She asked him, looking across at his unrevealing visor.

"I'm not here to make friends with any of you," He replied flatly, but he felt some remorse for having treated her roughly over the past few weeks since she had tried to calm him in the training arena. "I have never had friends, and I never will need them."

"How can you say that?" She demanded in surprise, "With friends behind you, you can propel yourself over the most trying situations and problems." Jaster leaned back with a sigh of impatience and craned his neck up to look at the stars high above them.

"I never needed them for any problems I've had before, I can solve all of them myself." He argued, "Why? Who the hell would want to be friends with me anyway? I'm not the kind of preppy do-good Corellian you'd want to be friends with."

When she didn't reply, he ventured a look across to see her gazing sadly up to the same stars he had escaped to earlier. He felt sorry she was hurt, but the last thing he needed was for some rich, gifted daughter of Corellian politicians to start getting romantic with a future Jedi failure. He looked away and swallowed a sigh.

"You won't be a failure." She said quietly, her expression unchanging.

"What?" He asked reflexively, but he knew then she'd seen his mind; read his thoughts. "Why the hell …" He started, his lips curling into a snarl of defiance.

"Your whole disposition is so sad and lonely, Jaster." She spoke low and quietly, so he had to put a stop in his anger to hear her. "It wasn't too hard to hear your thoughts; you almost wear them on your sleeve with your expressions." The gentle sounds of the jungle night filled the courtyard for several long moments as they sat there in the grass next to the small pond of golden orange fish.

"I'm sorry." He said, keeping his voice plain, but it was the first time he ever remembered having apologized to anyone, especially someone who had just invaded his most personal thoughts.

"It's okay." She said, "I shouldn't have, but …" she trailed off, and Jaster nearly jumped as his brain tingled a warning; he was on his feet before Lena could finish gasping …

"_Them? Here?_" His lightsaber crackled to life in the jungle darkness and he braced himself for the first.


	7. Return of the Sith

The first of the assailants leapt easily over the courtyard wall from its perch high on the stone castling.

"Go for help, Lena." Jaster commanded dryly as two more of the dark silhouettes leapt into view on the wall above.

"But you can't possibly …" She started to protest.

"NOW!" He boomed as the first Sith braced and leapt down to the courtyard floor. Lena took a last look, then fled off to the courtyard doors. The Sith saw her, snapped his head back up to his companions and barked an order in a cold, deathly voice.

"Kill her."

"No!" Mereel bellowed, charging the first Sith, his red blade gleaming dangerously in the jungle darkness. The Sith, caught off guard by what he would have assumed a mere student's speed, had barely the time to dodge the killing blow and ignite his own blade.

"You're a quick one, Jedi student; but your rashness will betray you to me." The black form laughed the surprise off of his face and replaced it with a sneer as he leapt in for the attack.

Parrying the blows of his opponent easily, the Mandalorian chanced a look over his shoulder to look for Lena and the other Sith. She was running, but impossibly slowly, as the two Sith from the wall seemed to be floating in slow motion down from the high wall. His head snapped back to the Sith in front of him, but the enemy hadn't seemed to have moved an inch, Jaster saw with surprise. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, everything being affected except for himself. Slashing with a shrug upwards and across the Sith, Jaster barely noticed the unearthly scream rip from the agonized enemy as he sank slowly to his knees and dropped his lightsaber. He had reached and locked up with the next two Sith as the first enemy hit the ground, his stomach torn open in a grisly, burnt wound, and he stopped his writhing to lay still.

"You'll pay for that, Jedi!" Hissed the nearest Sith locking blades with him. The other watched Lena for a split second before turning back to glare hatefully at Mereel. Lena was safe, but now he had two Sith to fend off and an eternity before the fastest of the Masters could get here. Even worse, his sudden burst of speed appeared to be wearing off as the two enemies closed in on him, their vicious slashes and swings deflecting thunderously off his own red blade. Backing up slightly, Mereel spied a decorative column behind him and to his left. Leaping suddenly between defensive strokes, he back flipped to level his feet on the tip of the temple column to gaze down at the furious Sith below.

"Coward!" The first shouted.

"Fool of a Jedi! Jump from here!" the second commanded, and the nearer Sith leapt up onto his partner's shoulders as he force pushed his feet upwards and, combined with the leap, propelled the Sith to the column's top.

Smiling mischievously, the Mandalorian threw a hand out felt the airborne enemy's presence, swinging his hand back over his head from his chest, summoning as much of the force as he could to jerk the Sith's unsuspecting form. The flailing body went flying high and well over the Mandalorian's perch on the stone pillar. The robed humanoid flew out of control, spinning and waving his arms frantically as he screamed in terror and landed with a sickening crunch on the stone plaza floor far away. He didn't move as his lightsaber cracked down next to him and sputtered dead.

Surprised, the final Sith stared, mouth agape and working in hateful spasms at his dead companions and then up to Mereel, who, though physically exhausted and mentally drained, motioned arrogantly with his hand for him to bring it on.

"Jaster!" cried a voice from the Academy walls, "They're on their way! Please be alive …" It was Lena, Mereel knew, as the Sith's expressions of fury shifted more to fear and outright panic as the girl ran back into the courtyard, her purple lightsaber casting an eerie light over the flinching Sith.

"I'll, I'll finish you later, you little bastard!" He stammered nervously, and leapt out of sight over the wall. Jaster jumped then down from the pillar and landed hard, his knees buckling weakly underneath him as he rolled over his shoulders and made to play off his exhaustion and fear. Lena had spotted him by then, however, and ran quickly up to his crouching, breathless form, her eyes scanning the darkened courtyard for danger. He felt her presence reach out to him to see if he was injured, and saw her surprised and happy expression at finding him in one piece.

"By the Hutts, I thought they'd …" Then she screamed as she saw first the Sith by the wall, his cold hands clutching his open stomach as his body lay slack against the high wall. She gasped again when she spied the next the broken and crumpled form of the second intruder across the courtyard; his head and neck tilted at an unnatural angle and his body unmoving. "You … you …"

"I killed them." Jaster sighed tiredly, snapping his lightsaber into his belt. "They were going to kill you." He told her, seeing her shoulders slacken and begin to shudder as she looked away from the dreadful corpses behind them.

Seeing her frightened and confused, he shook his head wearily; searching for words to explain to a person he was sure had never seen death before. He pulled his helmet off and let it drop with a thud into the grass as he put his arms around her shivering form in the twilight. He saw several Jedi instructors and Masters come tearing out of the upper doors, several leaping down from that height into the courtyard below. Without speaking, Lena ceased her crying gradually into his suit and looked up with still wet eyes into his face; his eyes conveying perhaps a touch too much emotion for his usual taste, but he _had _just killed two people. He grinned at her reassuringly from under his wispy brown youth's moustache because he didn't know what else to do. She silenced her heavy breaths and looked down and away.

"Your thoughts are so cold, Jaster." She said, still holding onto his shoulders. He thought perhaps he was being too cold, and tried hard to do a thing for her he had done for no one he had ever known.

"Search harder, you will find some warmth …" And as she met his gaze again he concentrated as hard as he could on the happiest thing he could think of with her so close to him in his arms.

As he opened his eyes Lena's face was close to his, and he had barely the time to close them again as their lips met and she made from his thought a reality.

"This is no minor event, young Mereel," Master Orleans was telling the Mandalorian the next morning, "To take on three Sith unaided is _not_ the sort of recklessness we strive to teach here at the Academy!"

Jaster sighed wearily as the early morning stretched into the day with no end to the interrogation in sight. Azekel sat behind the Master's circle and would in turn no doubt stand to raise his own objections to Mereel's 'recklessness' as the young man tried wearily to explain.

"I was meditating, then Lena and I spoke briefly before we sensed the disturbance in the force," He began, recounting for the millionth time his actions, and seeing Lena nod approvingly to the frowning Orleans, who cut in.

"You sensed them? Both of you?"

"Jaster felt it first, I believe; he stood and had his lightsaber on just as I felt their hatred." Lena said, and Jaster nodded as Orleans turned back to him.

"How did you know it was the presence of the Sith you sensed?" He demanded skeptically. Jaster grinned to spite the disapproving Jedi Master.

"If you recall, Master Orleans, the circumstances in which I myself was, _discovered_, I think you would not disagree I know _something_ about how the dark side feels." Orleans' eyes narrowed perceptibly as Jakome smirked at what must have felt like to him the understatement of the century.

"Yes, I suppose you would." Was the reply as Master Skywalker motioned for Jaster to continue.

"I saw them on the wall, and I told Lena to run for help," He narrated the events flatly, "When the first of them ordered the others to kill her, I …" He trailed off, stopping suddenly.

"You _what_?" Orleans fairly snapped, but Skywalker spoke up quietly, reassuringly.

"What happened next, Jaster?"

"After that I wasn't going to sit around and let it happen." He said, then continued, "I charged the first Sith, the one who was by the wall … and I killed him."

Several of the crowd of Jedi Masters and Knights grimaced as Mereel next outlined his killing of the other Sith, and Mereel got the distinct impression that, despite their being full Jedi, many of them had probably never been in a real, life or death lightsaber duel before. Only recently had the Sith reemerged, and Jaster noted that in his scanning of the room only Skywalker, Jakome and a scant few other instructors kept straight faces throughout his detailing of the fighting and events. Those were the ones who had either been around long enough to have fought some of the first new Sith, or, as in Skywalker's exclusive case, had tangled with the dreadful Darth Vader and the Emperor himself; and _won_, as evidenced by the battered lightsaber hanging from Mereel's own belt.

As the interrogation came to a close Master Skywalker and the council dismissed Mereel and Lena to their dormitories for the Jedi council to meet and discuss this recent surge of audacious Sith activity. On the way out, Mereel saw Azekel over his shoulder make as if to follow him to the hallway, but the Knight was called back to the council room as the doors shut and Mereel made his way to his room with a quick sideward grin to Lena in the opposite elevator.


	8. A Prodigal Apprentice

"Trouble seems to follow you around, Jaster." Said a voice, intruding on his tired slumber, and he swore to himself if it was his roommate, Renak the Rodian, he would saber the skinny green alien in half. Light flickered in through the slits of his eyelids as the Mandalorian squinted away the comfort of sleep. He knew that voice.

"Azekel?" He asked, still very tired as he sat up to face the Jedi Knight sitting on his Academy bunk. The man nodded, his face, though concerned, lit with a happy smile. "What do you want? It must be two in the morning!" Mereel moaned.

"Try two in the afternoon," Laughed the Knight, "you've been asleep long enough for the council to reach its decision regarding the Sith dilemma."

Mereel frowned through his drowsiness. Why the hell should he care? He'd killed two of the guys; what more did they want from a student?

"So?" He asked when Jakome didn't continue.

"So the council has been kind enough to leave the task of tracking the Sith that escaped you in the courtyard to me and my apprentice." Jakome grinned conspiratorially. That only made Jaster snort in disinterest.

"Congratulations …" He said, falling back on his pillow and closing his eyes, but the Knight didn't move, and a second later a sickening drop in the Mandalorian's stomach told him why. He propped himself up for another look at the still grinning Jedi.

"You don't have an apprentice, Azekel." He said flatly, knowing by the look he received.

"I do now, Jaster." He said, his smile widening from ear to ear, "And guess who it is?"

"Linux?" Jaster tried in desperation, and the Jedi laughed, patting his new student roughly on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, my loyal apprentice!"

"Master Jakome has taken you as an apprentice?" Lena cried, her hands clapping together in excitement, drawing stares from the other students in the Academy lunchroom. "That's terrific!" Jaster sneered cruelly.

"No, it's not! He put me in a coma!" He protested, but the girl laughed at him.

"You were the one who attacked him, as I've heard it told, and besides, he is probably the best fit for you, anyways."

"How so?" Mereel asked in disbelief, "I don't think anyone could be _worse!_" though he shuddered at the passing thought of being an apprentice under Master Orleans.

"He probably knows more about you than any of the other instructors around here."

Jaster only mumbled something under his breath and continued on with his meal, feeling all the more sorry for himself as he wondered what sort of trouble he and his 'Master' would get into in the days ahead. The last thing he wanted to do was tangle unnecessarily with more Sith, despite the fact that his mastery of the force had recently begun to swell to impressive proportions. For the past five or so days he'd been separated from the rest of the students and taught private classes by Jakome and Master Skywalker in defense and conservative attack with the lightsaber, as well as accelerated lessons on enhanced movement and evasions, such as acrobatics, (which Jaster showed an incredible ability for,) and disengaging maneuvers to rip himself away from holds or traps the Sith might try to use on him. Jaster besides had begun to practice a few not-so-orthodox moves in the secrecy of his chambers with his friendly and mischievous Rodian roommate, Renak Glibbs; the two had succeeded yesterday in summoning enough concentrated force power to land a fairly disarming blow to an opponent at close range; which could, if delivered with enough precision and at close enough range to the crotch or face,

The cathedral lights dimmed almost on cue as the Sith entered the broad stone hallway. His hands fidgeting nervously in his black robes, the young man looked around him apprehensively as he approached the ancient altar transformed into the Master's throne room. The Master sat complacently waiting his report, and the warrior winced inwardly at the rage his particular report would give.

"Master …" He began, but the stolid figure motioned already for him to stop.

"You disobeyed me, impatient youth." He hissed in disgust, "I told you not to trifle with the Jedi, only to observe their training Academy. Instead you have lost two valuable warriors and enlightened the enemy to our existence. They will follow you here."

"But Master I, we thought that the two in the courtyard would be easy kills; that we could remain undetected _and_ instill fear into the proud Jedi there!" The warrior protested; his voice full of fear and subservience.

"And?" The Master's tone destroyed what hope he had maintained for his argument.

"… and we were wrong, your Excellency. One of those we took for students was a mentoring teacher of the Jedi. We were unprepared for the voracity and skill he showed in combat."

"Yes, and two of you were lost, killed for your ignorant actions; but it was no Jedi who struck your comrades down in the courtyard, but a mere student, by the name of Jaster Mereel. A recent troublesome Jedi apprentice of Mandalorian descent, he claims to be the last."

"A … a student? But Master, he wore a helmet, his face was …"

"And what style helmet was that?" Barked the Master hatefully.

"I, I do not know, my lord, his costume could very well have been a variant of Mandalorian designs, but why would a Mandalore study under the Jedi who wiped out his people so long ago?" The warrior flustered, then a sudden realization gripped him, and he asked, "How does my master know all this?" That elicited a thin smile.

"Your master has his sources inside the Jedi Academy; ones no one knows of but himself, and, now, you. However, my young apprentice warrior, you have of late proven yourself untrustworthy of even following explicit orders. What shall a Master do to such a treacherous and untrustworthy rat?"

He stood, and the warrior sunk in his shadow, barely gasping out a faint protest as the walls of his throat closed in unnaturally, and his feet were lifted from the ground by the Master's hateful power. Bones cracked and crunched momentarily, and the warrior went limp as the Master let him drop, lifeless and in a heap, to the stone floor.

Perhaps, the Sith Lord thought, it was time to step his plan up from useless recon missions about the Jedi Academy; perhaps it was time to let the Jedi know just how powerful the Sith had become in their waiting. He snapped his fingers absently and two of his apprentices appeared, saw their dead companion, and shared a look of cold concern.

"Master?" They asked simultaneously.

"Clean this worthless creature up, and summon my chief student." The Sith Master ordered emotionlessly as the two Sith got to work; the first lifting the corpse from the floor and the second practically running off down the cathedral-like hallway to summon the Master's pride and joy apprentice, Darth Naal, the first of the students he had taken under his instruction after his parting of ways with the weak Jedi Academy of the pitiful and emotion-led Skywalker. Naal was before him in a moment, his thin, cruel face gazing forth reverently to his master for his orders.

"How go the experiments in the caverns, my apprentice?" the Master asked, turning and walking towards his throne again, his student falling into step with him.

"The subjects are weak, my Lord; many have died, but some have proven accepting of the force-infusion process."

"How many have you for me?"

"Twenty, my Lord, but they are still weak, and slow to learn." Naal answered, "They will need more time before they are ready for combat with a true Jedi."

The Master turned to face his student in front of his throne, his shadowed features obviously frowned in deep thought.

"How many students do you have who are ready?" He asked. Naal thought for a moment before replying;

"Not many, my Lord; perhaps ten I would trust to defeat a Jedi in combat, three more students of Darth Tiriak would serve us very well, also." The Sith Lord thought some more briefly, and then asked the question Naal had feared would come.

"How far has the prodigal captive come in his solitude?"

"He is very weak, but the force is very strong in him, nonetheless." Naal answered evasively, "We were fortunate to find him, but he is a rebel, nonetheless, and his natural force abilities have aided his resolve against us. He knows not of his sensitivity, but his solitude in the caverns have weakened his mind." The Master nodded silently, then made his decision.

"Conduct the infusion process in three day's time, then, once he has reached his potential, bring him to me and we shall begin planning the opening strike." Naal had his reservations about the 'prodigal captive,' but he nodded to his Master's authority.

"Yes, my Lord."


	9. Companions for a Lone Wolf

"Azekel!" cried Jaster at the top of his lungs, his arms swinging his lightsaber through the chains barring him from his master; the Sith surrounding the Jedi pair darting back from the sudden explosion of light and sparks as the links to the heavy metal exploded under the bite of the blade.

"Get yourself the hell out of the chasm, Jaster!" Jakome shouted up at his apprentice, as Jaster saw the walls to the vertical tunnel vibrate and seem almost to buckle threateningly. The black robed Sith leapt forward to join the fray on the ledge below the Mandalorian as he again called to his master, this time too late.

"Jaster get out of the Chambers- Aaaaaaaah!" The Jedi Knight cried out a final warning as the darkened Sith drove home a fatal blow and the tunnel's walls gave way at the bottom of the chasm to an intolerable rush of heat gusting upwards.

"No!" Jaster heard his voice cry out, surprised at his rage and emotion and feeling dazed, helpless to escape the rush of lava into the volcano shaft; a few Sith were swallowed up with screams of pain and agony in the waves of rushing magma while the others leapt upwards, ledge by ledge, the black robed leader foremost among them, leaping steadily upwards towards Jaster's waiting blade on the edge; Jaster's waiting fury and hatred. The Sith leader laughed demonically as Jaster's anger grew, his hatred blinding his emotion of sadness over Azekel's death as the lava swallowed the Jedi corpse below and the onslaught came on, Jaster heard a noise behind him on the ledge, and turned to face an obscured but somehow familiar face. The blurry figure tried to speak, but Jaster felt only an aura of danger, and a blue lightsaber sparked to life from the figure's indistinct form.

"Jaster!" He heard a voice, echoing from somewhere far away, above and beyond the haze and heat of the chaotic scene. Jaster's vision tore suddenly away from his body as he stood poised over the chasm awaiting the Sith. The voice called to him again. His vision blurred, swinging far and away from the battle scene he knew must be raging between his body and the Sith far below, but the image of the sky melted away into a dull haze of light and then blinking darkness and a dull light from a form hovering close to his face. "Jaster?" the voice was Lena's, low and whispering in the semidarkness of Jaster's dormitory at the Jedi Academy. He suddenly remembered that he was resting for his journey in two days with Azekel in search of the Sith who'd attacked the base. He took a breath, trying to forget the vividness of the dream and succeeding as he gazed up at the Corellian girl's frightened but still beautiful face. He blinked, frowned and said groggily;

"I'm awake, now what is it?" He made to hush her quickly as she looked ready to cry out loud, and pointed urgently to the bunk above him, where his roommate no doubt slept soundly.

"So affectionate!" She whispered sarcastically, "But I've got to show you something outside! It's amazing!" Jaster groaned lazily, still heavy with sleep as Lena looked still anxiously up at the top bunk, where Renak Glibbs, Jaster's Rodian roommate shuffled grumpily under his sheets.

"Look, if you two want the room to yourselves I'll have to ask you to wait until tomorrow, alright?" Glibbs croaked in his high voice, "I'm _not_ going to get up this late for you to have a little 'personal time'."

Lena sighed heavily in the dark room and looked up at the dozing Rodian with an impatient look.

"Get real, Renak; I want to show Jaster something _outside_! Come _on_ you lazy Bantha! Let's go!" She pushed Mereel excitedly as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up, his only clothing a pair of worn and vibrantly red boxers Renak had generously given him when Jaster realized he had only two pairs of his own, and they had both been left on Glade 6 in a seedy off-port apartment he'd called home for a month before Jakome had found him. He stood up, stretching wearily.

"What time is it, woman?" He asked in slight agitation.

"Too late for a midnight smoke?" Renak's high voice asked before Lena could reply that she didn't much appreciate being referred to as 'woman'. The Mandalorian grinned as the girl made a nasty face to show what she thought of his developing habits.

"You'll smoke yourself to an early grave with those death sticks, you skinny green morons!" She warned them.

"Hey, only _one _of us is skinny and green in here!" Jaster shot back, pulling on a pair of Academy longs. Renak shrugged indifferently and turned back over in his bed.

"You'll soon be just as green if you keep up that smoking, Jaster, what if the masters found out?" Lena persisted as they walked out of the room and into the humid jungle night on the Academy Temple balcony.

"Never mind the Masters, they can take a long walk off a short plank into the Sarlaac for all I care at _this _hour; now what on the moons of Mictlin is so important out here?" He asked, trying to change the subject; then he froze, his eyes glued to the glowing night sky and the strange, wonderful colors it was radiating; lighting the night sky in an alien hue of greens, yellows, purples and reds. "What the hell?"

Lena was clutching his arm happily under the invisible, painted stars and her smile spread from ear to ear from the look of surprise on his face. She leaned her head lightly on his shoulder in what the Mandalorian thought was a dramatically romantic way.

"Isn't it romantic, Jaster?" She cooed, confirming his suspicions.

"I wouldn't know." He replied with a shrug, pretending to miss her point, "To tell you the truth, it kind of freaks me out. Why does it look like that?" The girl sighed heavily no doubt gave him a pretty sour look, but Jaster just wasn't awake enough to catch it.

"Jaster." She said, getting his attention, "It's _romantic_, okay? Let's not overanalyze the semi-annual Yavin 5 midnight planetary eclipse, alright?"

"Right." The Mandalorian got the point as he saw a glint in her eyes and she began to move her face closer to his, he closed his eyes and made to kiss her …

"Son of a Garbulok!" shouted a voice from behind them. It was Renak, who dropped his cigarette in surprise at the sight of the eerie light. "What the hell is that?" He asked, pointing in surprise to the sky. Lena's head dropped with a frustrated, _very_ annoyed look and Jaster leapt away to grab his roommate and excitedly explain the phenomenon.

"I swear to the gods I'm going to kill _both_ of you skinny green morons …" she growled as the two young men laughed and made obscene jokes about the possible source of the lights.

The sun rose high and bright the next dawn, and Jaster's eyes flittered open in the dim light of his dormitory. Lena's head lay across his chest as the two sat back on the small couch in his and Renak's room. The skinny Rodian lay sprawled across his own bunk, his gangly arm hanging down over the guardrail Jaster had constructed to keep the alien from rolling off the bunk for a third time. The Mandalorian blinked softly in the creeping light of the shaded window, feeling very happy and comfortable, and also a bit strange for it. For the first time in his life he thought he actually had friends; people that would rather he live than die. Two people here valued his company, and maybe, he thought further, with a little more grudging effort, _three_ people, if Azekel could soon be included. The Jedi Knight _had_ pulled him out of his one-way life of an underage mercenary and into a difficult and trying, but still amazing life of opportunity here at the Academy, and Jaster thought perhaps he should try a bit harder after all to make Jakome's life a little easier.

He thought about his situation for a moment longer, his mind still unwilling to accept 'friends' and the trust they entailed, but he decided that for now, under the unstressed circumstances, they were the closest things he had, he had _ever_ had, to trustworthy and amiable companions; Renak had helped him, after some initial reluctance, to grow accustomed to the Academy and had since grown into quite an agreeable accomplice on many a misdeed late in the night. The Rodian had assisted the Mandalorian in a wide variety of pranks ranging from explosives in the library during studies to escaping the Academy grounds after midnight and exploring the ruins of the surrounding Yavin temples. Lena was especially driven to see Jaster succeed, and, despite her criticisms and constant worries, he was starting to grow very fond of her, as well.


	10. Departure

Jaster grunted under the weight of the heavy cargo-trex container; lifting it with effort up to his armored chest and trudging awkwardly up the ramp to the Academy cruiser's tiny cargo compartment in the cramped spaceship's interior corridor. Azekel followed him up the metal walkway; carrying his box easily to place it next to Mereel's with an effortless toss. Jaster nearly jumped before he realized the cargo-trex container had floated gently down next to his own. Jakome gave him a patronizing smile.

"You _are_ gifted with the force, apprentice," He said, patting him on the shoulder as two more of the heavy containers floated up the ramp behind them to join the rest in orderly rows. "It would be a shame not to put that gift to use."

Minutes later the small stack of supplies and tools the Jedi would need had been transferred up to their tiny spaceship, and the Master and apprentice were ready to take off on their journey. Azekel joined Master Skywalker and one or two other of the Jedi high council, while Jaster slipped away to Lena, who waited patiently but with some anguish near the droid deck on the Temple's main hangar deck. Renak, having already said his brief goodbye to his roommate, waited impatiently on the nearby elevator.

"I'll be gone _maybe_ two weeks, tops." Jaster began, seeing the girl's long face.

"I don't care how _long_ it'll be, I just care that you come back, in one _piece_!" she replied, not comforted by his words.

"Hey, you've seen first hand what I can do to those lousy Sith; as long as Jakome over there doesn't get in my way, I should be able to handle anything they've got to throw at me!" Lena cringed; she remembered what Jaster had shown himself capable of, though it was obvious she wishes she hadn't, even though he _had _saved her life, probably. Azekel, as if sensing his apprentice's remark, turned briefly to frown at the two before returning to nod emphatically and reassuringly to his superiors.

"If anything happens, you _must_ listen to Master Jakome, Jaster," She pleaded, as usual taking his sarcasm and bravado too heart, "He knows so much more about the Sith and how to deal with them, if you run off and do something stupid …"

"That's not going to happen, Le-le." Mereel got serious, "According to whatever those eggheads over there have planned, Jakome and I are on stealth recon detail; we should never have to even come _near _any Sith. We're just going to try to lock onto the signal of that getaway ship and nose around any systems it might have come near, try to weed out any planets the Sith might be hiding on, then come back here to report. The big guys will handle the _real_ dirty work. This is a milk run, I promise."

"I know that's what they _say_, but what if something happens? What if you get ambushed or something? With the landing site they found off campus grounds so clearly marked it's a wonder they didn't draw a _map_ for you!" Mereel thought about that for a second, his long hair blowing slightly in the gust of air released by the cruiser's cargo ramp mechanism.

"With the amount of Jedi following that last guy out, and with what happened to his buddies before him on his mind, it's a wonder the Sith-scum was even able to work the controls. I'm sure we'll be fine." He reasoned, comforting the woman somewhat, "Besides; Jakome and me _have_ got a certain chemistry; I'm sure we'll do fine out there as long as he keeps his big mouth shut!" He laughed, happy to see Lena crack a smile; brief though it was.

"Jaster!" Azekel's voice called out over the increasingly loud hum of the cruiser's engines. The Mandalorian looked back to see the Jedi Masters dispersed and the Knight waiting on the steps to the cockpit impatiently. "No time like the present."

Mereel turned back to Lena, leaning in quickly to peck her on the cheek curtly, and went to go off for the ship. She grabbed his arm and turned him back around.

"Goddamn it, Jaster!" She exclaimed, pulling him down to kiss her lips, "And don't forget your ridiculous helmet!" She concluded, thrusting the Mandalorian armor into his gloved hands. "Good luck."

He smiled in reply, and ran to join Azekel in the cockpit corridor, waving over his shoulder at Lena and Renak, who grinned back and shouted something Jaster couldn't catch, but knew to be typical of the Rodian as Lena frowned and punched him on the shoulder before returning to wave excitedly from the elevator.

"Smooth, slick." Jakome smirked, "Why with the helmet? Expecting a meteor storm?" The Mandalorian adjusted his helm proudly, the comfortable visor giving him instant readouts of room temperature, object distances, major heat readouts and even confirmation of his armor's weapons systems: a wrist-mounted blaster, knee-cap knock-out darts, another wrist-mounted grapple/trip wire, and an elbow-positioned rocket or two.

"This helmet," he explained in a haughty voice as he buckled into the co-pilot seat, is a proud weapon handed down to me by my proud people and it stands for a legacy of tenacity in combat, mercenary honor and the final craftsmanship of the Mandalore people." Jakome scoffed before his apprentice added, "plus, chicks love a man in armor."

Shortly after the Jedi Knight and his apprentice had settled into a pleasant discussion about Mandalore history, the apprentice allowing his Master almost unprecedented politeness as he explained the various markings and insignias on his worn yet sturdy chest plates and visor, which he had removed just after takeoff, and having checked the ship's vitals readings at least four times because he didn't quite trust the Jedi to maintain a truly standard ship; they relied too much on the mental state to enhance any material possessions.

"And what is _that_ one for? I think I've seen it before." The Jedi Knight prodded curiously, turning a moment from the ship's outdated tracking system to poke the scratched metal emblem on his apprentice's shoulder brace.

"You probably have, either in books or in real life, if you'd ever been unfortunate enough to run into Boba Fett while he was still around." Mereel told him with solemnity, "It's the insignia of Fett's father's own clan of Mandalores, who fought most viciously in the wars before the race itself was nearly annihilated."

"Fett, eh? Perhaps Skywalker has mentioned that design before then; he is always wary when speaking of that bounty hunter; though I swear he's claimed the man still lives on several occasions." Mereel shrugged.

"It wouldn't surprise me, to be honest. I've never met _him_, I am almost too young, but I've seen my fair share of impersonators. You can tell them by the obviously fabricated texture of their armor; they usually go for a thicker, stronger alloy, one of the new ones, rather than what Fett used, which was archaic by even Master Skywalker's childhood standards, but he made up for armor with sheer ferocity, I'm told." Jakome shook his head.

"He was a cold bastard, that's true." He agreed, "I'd give him more space than a drunk Tydorian star cruiser." Jaster laughed.

"Speaking of drunk Tydorian star cruisers …" And began telling his Master about that one time he ran afoul of the gambling circuit off the Erekine system.

Light years away, a low moan resounded off the walls of a vast, cavernous room somewhere deep under the ground of some planet. Footsteps where heard by ears sore from laying on cold, rough surfaces.

"What are you moaning about, you damned rebel?" demanded a low, growling voice, "You think it's time for his beating again, yet?" An invisible pair had walked up to the prone man. A booted foot kicked him roughly in the sides, and he coughed in the blackness.

"No more!" He croaked, "Please, please … kill me …" He begged, and he meant it, he realized, with an odd feeling. Months ago he'd been abducted, and darkness and sharp pain had been the only constant things in his life since that moment. He was living in hell, and he wanted to die.

"Why the hell are we keeping _him_ around anyways?" Asked the first voice, "Look at him; he's coughing up blood! If we're looking for servants, let's at least get _healthy_ ones!"

"You want to kill him?" Laughed the other voice, "I personally wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, who knows what diseases he's picked up down here?"

"I'm not going to touch him with any pole, I've got something better." The other voice cackled evilly, and a sudden crack and explosion of bright red light assaulted the man's senses; he saw the men standing above him in the eerie light of the lightsaber, and he turned feebly onto his back, pushing off the ground weakly with a shoulder to meet his fate. "Look! He wants to fight!" the laughter rang hideously off the high walls as the laser blade swung high and back over the hooded man's twisted and evil face.

"Fool!" Shouted a third voice, and the second captor leapt quickly away as a sickening buzz erupted next through the cavern and the first man with the lightsaber cried out terribly and fell to the earth next to the captive. A second red light illuminated a third form behind the would-be-killer.

"You would undermine the Master's orders, you useless weaklings!" the newcomer spat with an oddly metallic voice. "The Master wants this man alive, and we will _keep_ him alive until we are told otherwise."

"Yes, sir." The second voice responded from somewhere high above. "Of course, sir."

"Good." Hissed the killer as he strode silently up to the captive, the lightsaber he held evaporating into complete darkness again as he spoke up again, "Now get down here and clean up this mess; I'm going to take this captive upstairs … it's his time for reeducation."

"Yes, sir!" replied the second man again, a pair of heavy boots thudding loudly on the stone ground somewhere off to the captive's right. A pair of rough hands grabbed him and he cried out piteously, his beaten arms flinching weakly against the impossibly strong grasp of the man who had just killed so that his suffering may continue.

"Stop struggling, you worthless rebel! You've been selected for the most prestigious reward we can give to the enemy; the opportunity to become born again!" The voice accompanied a rough strike to the man's skull, and the captive lost all consciousness as he perceived a distant thought flitter through his mind briefly before darkness … it was a name … _his_ name … Mereel …


	11. Reborn Recruit

"Jaster get out of here!" Jakome bellowed over the noise of the fighting and the volcano far below, just beginning to awaken from its restless slumber.

"Jakome, look _out!_" Jaster replied equally urgently, pushing with all his might against the blade-lock the Sith in front of him had engaged him in. A black clad Sith was running hard towards the Jedi Knight a few meters below, but Mereel had his hands full, and could only watch as the dream replayed itself, feeling himself suddenly detached and observing from far above the scene; a vast open chasm, the night sky far above and the molten red lava below steaming and bubbling sinisterly as Jakome's duel with the black Sith intensified and Jaster saw himself cut down two more Sith on a platform near the top of the chasm.

"Jakome!" He cried out to the Jedi, but the end was coming, and a new Sith had landed next to him in the dream, turned to look at him.

"You belong with us, Jaster," The Sith told him, his lightsaber gleaming an eerie blue, "Too long have we been apart, but now we can rebuild our people with the invincible power of the dark side!" Jaster slashed furiously, suddenly finding himself back in control of his body, his blade cutting deep and through the man's waist. He watched with panicked reassurance as the top half of the Sith fell sickly and cleanly away from the lower legs, and the man dropped lifeless. He turned back to search for Jakome far below, and saw the Black Sith racing up the platforms towards him with inhuman speed.

"How far has my brother fallen …" came a voice at his side, and he whipped around, his red blade connecting hard with the brilliant blue of the Sith he'd just slain, standing anew and grinning triumphantly. "How much the Jedi have corrupted you, Jaster Mereel! To strike down even your own blood and race!"

Suddenly the Black Sith was upon them, and Jaster pushed the blue saber from him forcefully, knocking the Sith holding it over the platform and into the red fire far below. He whirled and locked blades with the Black Sith, whose collision was breathtaking. He braced his boots, his armored soles sliding dangerously and the heat all around them.

"You killed my Master! You killed Jakome!" He spat as the hooded man facing off with him laughed evilly, yet in a somewhat familiar tone.

"I killed him." He replied, his voice low and thoroughly evil, yet unmistakable all the same. The robe lifted, slowly, then all at once to reveal the horrible truth of its wearer, and Jaster screamed.

"Jaster! Jaster wake up!" Jakome cried urgently, his hands shaking his apprentice frantically in their ship's small cockpit. "What in the Galaxy is wrong? What did you see?" He asked as Jaster reoriented himself slowly.

"It was nothing." He said in a low voice, still shaken from the eerily realistic dream. _He_ had been the Black Sith, and the man with the blue lightsaber had seemed oddly familiar, as well.

"Jaster, you were practically having a seizure just there," Jakome told him, worry etched across his face.

"I'm fine!" Jaster snapped defensively, and his master frowned and looked taken aback.

"If you say so, then I won't probe you any further, but I will warn you that your seemingly irrelevant dreams could potentially be a premonition of the force; vivid dreams should not be taken lightly when you are a servant of the force."

"I don't think it could have been, Master, but it was pretty realistic …" Jakome looked his student over before sighing and giving his final advice.

"We're getting closer to our objective now, my apprentice; in fact we'll probably find the trails lead to one of those planets out there in the Sadomine system. Keep your mind and body receptive to the force and you will find it can help you in more ways than physically."

"Sure," Jaster nodded in weak agreement, feeling an eerie shiver run up his spine as he gazed out at the forbidding glow of the nearby planets and moons. "Sadomine Primary." He said absently, "One of the galaxy's most uninviting and inhospitable planets."

"It's probably all that volcanic activity. Look, you can see where the larger volcanoes are erupting even now …" Jakome pointed to the volatile planet surface the trail they were following led directly towards. "The miners on the far side have to pack up and leave for several months a year during the planet's closer rotation periods to the central star, when things start to get _really_ hot, but many scientists investigating the geology are starting to say some of the deeper caverns could probably remain cool enough to sustain life throughout the year on the shadow side." Jaster's eyes were locked on the volcanic surface below, and his mind raced through his dream, the landscape of which would match up perfectly with what he saw before him. He was glad he'd decided to put his helmet back on to prepare for descent, as it was made partially of cortosis, a metal which could obscure his Master's passive senses; he didn't want the Jedi to get a good feeling of just how anxious he was.

"We'll be landing shortly, Jaster," Jakome told him now, pushing buttons and locking in a clear flight path to take them to the surface without being erupted upon or otherwise harmed on the volatile planet. "Check the readings for planetary atmosphere for me, will you? I'm told it is mostly hospitable, but these maps of poisonous gas outlets are pretty out of date." Jaster busied himself with the controls on the passenger's side of the small craft and tried to forget the threatening premonition he felt creeping up his spine.

The man awoke, his eyes snapping open and focusing immediately on the room he lay in. The lights were out, but the man instantly knew the number of occupants with which he shared the small space with a quick glance, and their slightly glowing forms meant almost nothing to him as he tried to lift himself from the table on which he lay. He was held down, and another look down at his body showed him he lay naked except for a pair of short pants, with each limb and his chest strapped by hard leather to the table that felt suddenly cold on his back. On closer inspection of his body, he was momentarily surprised, though he could not discern why exactly; something he used to know told him things had changed, but he could identify nothing to complain about; he was fit, his limbs muscular and plainly toned even in his resting position, and he felt a new strength flow through his body that obliterated the mild discomfort of the cool metal tabletop. What had changed? He could think of nothing for several moments in puzzled silence, but as he once again tried to free himself from the table, his senses locked up and his body froze rigid, with his eyes wide open. He did not know what had changed, because he could not compare his present state to what he had been before. He had no memory of any time before the very moment he had awoken just now.

"You are awake, then. Good." Came a voice from somewhere in the eerily glowing room, and a shadowy figure stepped forth from the wall. "Master Naal will be pleased."

"Who are you?" The man on the table asked, then thought a moment and restated; "Who am _I?_" The other man laughed, his booted footsteps carrying him away from the table and towards a door on the far side of the room.

"You shall know in time, once Master Naal is informed of your awakening." Was his reply, "For the time being, know that you have been selected for the most prestigious and rare of opportunities you will ever come across."

"What?" The man was even more confused as the door slid shut and airlocked behind the shadowy figure, and he strained once again at his restraints, and tried to remember just who the hell he was, and how he had gotten here.


	12. The Battle Begins

Jaster's helmet display gave him the temperature of the torrid surface around him some hours later at a steady 85 degrees, which, Jakome told him, was an astonishingly low temperature even for the dark side of the planet. The high, cragged and heat-split mountains and the red, volcanic-scarred sky gave Sadomine Prime an eerily deadly look, but the readouts on the Academy cruiser as well as the Mandalorian's helmet and armor systems told the Jedi and his apprentice the atmosphere here was quite hospitable, and the air, though almost dangerously sulfuric, was breathable. Jaster thanked his armor's sophisticated assisted/filtered breathing system for filtering out a lot of the dangerous sulfur, as well as most of the putrid smell and even some of the heavy heat on the planet's surface, and he looked several times over to his Master to see how he was taking the uncomfortable atmosphere without the luxury of a life-sustaining suit.

Jakome seemed mostly unaffected by the adverse conditions, but he sweated freely by the time they'd crested the first of the treacherous red hills to set up a wide area life-force detection probe.

"Hope that suit comes with a coolant system, Jaster, or you're probably much worse off than me in these cotton fabrics." Jakome spoke for the first time since they'd landed.

"The armor's pretty sophisticated, but I've never been anywhere this naturally hot, so I've never really put the coolant system to a test." Jaster replied, hearing the eerily mechanic tang of his voice from his voice box, "I'm keeping a steady suit temperature of about 60 degrees, so I guess I'm probably pretty comfortable." Jakome nodded as he stood from the probe system he'd set up.

"We'll wait here for any readouts, then decide a course of action from what we get." He said, unnecessarily; the two had been over and over each aspect of the mission several times before they'd landed. A moment later the machine blinked and let out a series of sharp clicks followed by a low beep.

"That's not good," Jakome said absently, then turned to Jaster, "We've got a large group of life sign readings a few miles to the south of us, looks like near some of this region's larger caves on the maps …"

"That's them, I'll bet." Jaster's metallic voice cut in, a little too quickly; he'd seen the entrance to the caves in his visions, far below the volcanic chasm. "We should be careful." He added.

The Master eyed his apprentice carefully for a moment or two, but then nodded and looked off towards the south where the readouts indicated a mass of close together life forms.

"Right, apprentice; keep your mind clear as we move in on this; I sense a disturbance, as well, and we may have to make a hasty retreat."

"Sure." Jaster replied, setting off after his Master, "Stealth; my specialty."

"You are new to our group, right?" a voice asked the man from somewhere off to his left, he tried to look for the person who'd spoken, but saw only a shape in the darkness. The vehicle they were riding in hit a bump and the figure nearest him bumped limply into his shoulder.

"Yes, I am new here," The man replied, and the man next to him seemed to nod.

"I have not felt your presence before, yes." The vehicle seemed to slow down a fraction as the shadow continued, "Have you ever fought them before?" The man frowned at this.

"Fought who? The Master told me to dress and get into this transport; I don't know anything about fighting …" He said, and several of the men in the front of the transport started to laugh. The man next to him did not laugh, but put his hand on the man's shoulder in a brotherly way.

"The _Jedi_, my friend." He said as the transport stopped, "We are going to fight the Jedi; you are only newly born, as I am, but I have fought them once before, one of them."

"Jedi?" The man couldn't believe his ears, he knew about the Jedi; and he wondered who would be crazy enough to actually _fight_ them, "Why the hell are we fighting _Jedi?_" The laughter reached a peak now, but it had a certain friendly, understanding tone to it as a man near the front of the compartment turned in the darkness to speak.

"Stay close to the back, newcomers, there are only two of them, and five of us; we will keep you alive." The man said helpfully, "The Master wants you only to observe for now; not get killed." The man behind the newcomer nodded anxiously.

"I've fought one before; he was fast, but alone on an old mining facility we raided." He recounted, "I still barely escaped with my head, keep your blade up and try to draw as much on your anger as possible if they engage you; they will not stand a chance." He said, but the newcomer was still confused.

"Blade? My lightsaber?" He asked anxiously, "I told the Master I don't know how to _use_ one!" The laughter started again, but was drowned out by the heavy sounds of the transport's main doors clanking rapidly open, and the compartment was flooded with an eerie red light; the atmosphere outside was hot and alien to the man. As the men filed out rapidly, the leader again turned to face him, putting a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Try and engage them at least once, and you will see soon that your skills you have greatly underestimated." And the man was gone, running fast up the nearest hill, the newcomer followed.

"Jaster …" Jakome's voice came softly at the apprentice's side.

"I sense them too, Jakome." Mereel replied, "I am ready."

"They know where we are, they have been planning this, apparently," Jakome said quickly, his form straightening out from their crouching position on top of the cliff overlooking a valley. "Perhaps their appearance on the Academy grounds was merely to set a trap …"

"Here they come …"

The man saw the two forms on top of the slight rise in front of his group, and a sudden explosion of feeling erupted inside his skull; he could _feel_ them, the Jedi.

"Good luck to you, newcomer." The short man behind him told him, and leapt; incredibly high, into the air, his form seeming to float effortlessly through the atmosphere to land with a heavy thud on a rock jutting from the wall opposite the awaiting Jedi. The man scanned the two enemies again, and stopped suddenly as his eyes passed over the shorter one. He _knew_ that armor from somewhere …

"You Jedi have underestimated our powers and unity!" The lead man shouted, his lightsaber blazing into a hateful red light, "And for this error you shall pay with your lives!" The man felt his whole body swell with an unexplainable power, and he looked up to the cliff high above him where the rest of his group crouched, sabers up and ready, facing the Jedi; he felt a sudden hate boil up in his chest, coursing throughout his whole body, strangely cooling his body and emotions; he knew that man up there, but he cared not from where, he would kill him for being here, and nothing else. His hands gripped the short, black metal lightsaber from his belt and brought it up with a last look at the Jedi in the armor. He jumped.

"Look out, Jaster!" Jakome shouted, but it was too late, the Sith had leapt high to land lightly next to Mereel, whose red lightsaber hissed to life just in time to parry the Sith's deadly blow, the apprentice toppled, his footing shaken from the cliff and rolled backwards with a metallic grunt down the hill, and the Sith followed.

"Damn!" Azekel exclaimed, and made to go after them, but the Sith across him had cheered loudly and leapt the short distance between them, four of them closing in around him …


	13. Embrace the Dark Side

The man did not know from what incredible source his newfound power came, but he noticed that as he squared off with the armored Jedi in front of him his whole body seemed to glow with raw energy, fueled by an inexplicable hate and loathing. The armored Jedi had rolled over his back and leapt nimbly up to his feet, and the man had barely had enough time to find his own footing before the flashing red lightsaber was upon him. Though hate and energy coursed through him, the man soon found his strength ebbing, the man he fought was younger than him, it seemed, and more used to the power of what he had only a second ago realized must be the force. The two broke free after a short lock, and the younger Jedi was thrown backwards, only to roll again over his shoulders and to his feet. The man knew he was stronger physically, but the force emanated so strongly from the young Jedi that he dared not go in for too long a time; he stepped back and tried to catch his breath.

"The force is very strong in you, Jedi," He gasped, trying to disguise his breathlessness through his mask, "But in the end you will die all the same!"

"I know your presence, Sith," the Jedi replied, his breaths coming much easier and his own helmet betraying no signs of fatigue on his face. "I do not know from where, but the rawness of your essence tells me you have not long known the powers of the force …"

"Taunt me if you will, Jedi!" Spat the Sith, as he knew then he must be, "I too am stirred by the sight of you, but I do not care from where I know you, only that you be destroyed!" He lunged, his better judgment not being enough to contain his hate. The Jedi, however, back flipped and landed above the impromptu arena, his lightsaber down.

"You know me?" He asked, and the Sith snarled, "I have felt your presence before, and I can feel some deep conflict in your mind."

"Shut up and face me, coward!"

"I know you, Sith, and I can feel your thoughts through your reckless use of the force …" The Jedi continued, "You are …"

"No!" The Sith screamed, though he too felt the truth, just as the Jedi had, and he felt a sudden rush of new warmth to his veins. The warmth spread as his lightsaber dropped to the gritty earth and the Jedi landed next to him in a crouch, rushing to his side. The warmth was … love … so different form the power of the dark hatred he had only so recently tapped into. The warm feeling rushed up his legs and through his midsection, down his arms, through his whole body, and he hated it. The feeling was weak, he thought, it was a corruption of the raw power of the dark side, and a fool's conception of power.

"How are you here?" The Jedi was asking, "What have they done to you?" The Sith pushed hard off the ground with the force, propelling himself high over the surprised youth and flipping backwards, his heavy boots clipping the armored head just under the chin as he soared high and away.

Jaster fell backwards, his helmet rocked and his face exploding in pain from the unexpected kick. When he stood again, pushing quickly up to his feet with the force, the mysterious man had gone, and he had apparently learned to mask his presence.

"Wait … !" Mereel shouted at the top of his lungs, searching hard for some hint of the Sith's whereabouts, but all he found was a heated blend of rage surrounding a single source of light. _Jakome!_

"I'm coming, Master Jakome!" Mereel shouted, though he would have rather stayed on to find the fleeing man. He leapt back up onto the pinnacle he had so shortly fallen from.

"Jaster!" Azekel exclaimed happily as the apprentice joined his master in the heated battle on the cliff ledge. Mereel lunged into battle, fresh with the aggravation of losing the strangely familiar Sith warrior; Jakome had managed to down one of the warriors, but three remained, and they fought with the force of rage and hate that always tempted Jaster to draw upon the same source. He parried and spun away from the deadly blade tip of one of the dark soldiers, his own red saber slicing across the muscles of the man's back and dropping him with a scream of pain.

Jakome's glowing saber flashed brightly with the red saber thrusts of the remaining Sith. Pushing hard with the force, the Jedi Knight sent one Sith flying backwards over the cliff, but the evil warrior rolled and righted himself in midair, landing lightly on his feet, like a cat, at the bottom of the small valley. Jakome's slow, powerful style wore down the remaining Sith still battling him, and the man's blocking moves were battered relentlessly.

"Die, Jedi!" The Sith screeched, his voice high-pitched in desperation and his weary face covered in sweat and an expression of extreme exertion; but the weak move he put up for Jakome was easily knocked away. The man was rocked by Azekel's powerful parry, and his arms swung wide, opening his body to the Knight, who, instead of going for the kill as Mereel may have done, sliced clean through the man's sword wrist, cleaving his hand and lightsaber from his arm and dropping him with a pained grimace to the gritty earth with a scream of agony and defeat.

Jaster leapt nimbly down the stone wall to face the final Sith, who, despite the overwhelming odds against him, sneered arrogantly and lifted his blade.

"I have killed Jedi more powerful than you!" He spat, and Jaster felt the rage that was once so familiar to him well up in his chest, creeping into the edges of his mind.

"Jaster …" he heard Jakome's voice somewhere far above. He didn't care, he decided then and there; that mysterious man had fled him, eluding closure Jaster so desperately wanted; where there other Mandalorians out there? He had been sure the man was one of his race; but so mutated and disfigured. He could have helped him! He had once been the same; hopeless and alone, and the man had fled him like an enemy! This vile creature in front of him, this Sith here, who dared still challenge him and his Jedi powers, this man had corrupted and defiled the Mandalorian; had made him the despicable coward he'd shown he was! Mereel felt his hatred and anger for the Sith taking control of him, but he ignored the small, nagging voice of his Master, so far above. He clenched his teeth, set his saber in the fast, fencing style, and charged.

"Jaster no!" Jakome bellowed, his lightsaber coming down as Jaster reached his opponent, his face twisted in the same grimace of rage his enemy wore. The Sith parried the initial downward strike Jaster slashed down on his defense, but the power of the Mandalorian's stroke knocked his lightsaber sharply away from his body, exposing his vitals. Swinging now low and upwards, the young Jedi severed the Sith's shoulder muscles on his left arm, but the Sith's right arm held his saber, and he twirled, still dangerous even as he screamed in pain and surprise.

"Jaster he's not worth it! Let go of your hate!" Jakome cried out to his student's unhearing ears. The Mandalorian growled loudly to drown out his Master's words; his red lightsaber bearing down on his injured prey gradually, the parries from the Sith becoming hit-by-hit less effective, allowing the fury-driven Jedi inch by inch to tear apart his opponent's defense. Jaster cried out loudly as he brought his saber up for yet another attack, and, seeing his opponent's flinching attempt at a high-block, jerked his hands back quickly and sliced low and fast, cutting straight through the Sith's back leg, dropping him with a despairing cry of pain and agony. Feeling his enemy's despair in the face of defeat, the Jedi laughed, high and evilly, falling comfortably back into his old ways. As the Sith fell, his sword arm came up, the red blade swooshing across the Mandalorian's helmet visor, and crackling with sparks as the metal burned and sizzled beneath it; Jaster's vision blazed bright with blinding pain, and he stifled a cry as his saber came down yet again to sever the Sith's right hand, dropping the saber with another weak cry from the fallen man.

Resisting the urge to end the miserable creature's life on the spot, Jaster concentrated on the gasping Sith's throat, his gloved hand rising slowly, his two fingers clenching the air over the man's head as his concentrated force began to squeeze tight on the defeated man's esophagus.

"N-no, p-p-lease, Jed-i!" the man choked pitifully as his mangled and handless arms shot up to his throat instinctively and his body began to rise slowly from the hot volcanic ground.

"Who was that Jedi who attacked me?" Jaster demanded, sensing with a tinge of anger that Jakome was making his way slowly down the cliff. _He'd ruin everything with his talk of the dark side and righteousness!_ "Who was he!" He squeezed harder, and the tips of the Sith's feet left the ground as the force grip lifted him fully into the air, his throat in unimaginable pain. He could barley speak.

"He … w-w-was … n-new …" He managed to sputter, "I don't k-know where …"

"WHAT WAS HIS _NAME?_"

"Don't … k-now …"

"_LIAR!_" He squeezed harder, and lifted the dying Sith high above his head; Jaster felt the rush of force behind him, his Master pushing him forward telekinetically from behind, he stumbled, releasing the Sith, the man fell soundlessly, his face still in the grips of the utmost agony as his fall was broken by a pile of jagged volcanic rocks; he was dead. Jaster spun on his Master, his own push was violent and caught the Jedi off guard.

"_Idiot!"_ He screamed through the painful slash in his helmet, he just noticed the rush of hot air brushing over his injured face, and he reached up to tear his helmet impatiently from his face. "_You ruined everything!_"

"My god, Jaster …" Jakome whispered, stepping cautiously towards his tormented student. "Your face, we need to get you back to the academy …"

"No!" Jakome bellowed, his fury now reaching a fever pitch. "That Sith was a Mandalorian, and I let him get away! _YOU_ let him get away when you distracted me!"

"Jaster …" the Master warned the student cautiously, "Be careful, my student, I sense the dark side in you …"

Mereel's red blade came up and a glint passed through his eyes that sent a shudder up the teacher's spine.

"Jaster, don't!" He said, his blade coming up, "We can get you back to the academy, and we can find this Sith! Don't do something stupid!" But the student had already made his mind up; this damned Jedi had gotten in his way long enough …


	14. Master versus Apprentice

"Jaster don't!" The Jedi yelled over the increasing roar of the volcano far above them, but Mereel sprung, the force landing him right in front of his Master and their blades locking not for the first time in their time together.

"No, Jakome," Mereel spat, "You've stepped on my potential for the last time, and it ends here!" He brought his saber down on his Master's defense, and his inhuman speed and rage-fueled strength made the taller Jedi stagger back for a moment. When he'd regained his footing, he slumped into the open-legged fast style defensive position.

"I am your _Master_, Jaster, I want to _help you_." He insisted, stepping back away from the younger Mandalorian's confrontation. Jaster shook his head slowly, his eyes pinned on the Jedi in front of him, and his mind pushing back the mixed feelings of regret he had for his actions. "I feel your struggle, Jaster, but _you_ have to take the first steps! Let go of the feeling of hatred and come back to the academy with me!"

"So you can brainwash me some more, _Master?_" Mereel seethed, "I don't _think_ so. _I_ was the one who defeated three of the Sith in the courtyards, _I _was the one who defended those weakling Jedi!" He lunged again, his saber sparking off his Master's in a brilliant flash. Jakome was pinned against the cliff as his student bore down on him, and he began to fight back, reluctantly, searching his apprentice's feelings for some sign of hope. Jaster gave him little time to concentrate; the student's sword-skills had improved impressively since he had last been at odds with Azekel, and the Master knew even his own skills might fall under the Mandalorian's furious new strength. He resolved not to hurt his student unless it was absolutely impossible not to, but the armored youth stabbed quickly at his waist, and Jakome spun away, his blade swinging down just in time to knock the killing blow away before Jaster's red saber again swung in at him, this time from high above. Jakome caught the stroke, and the Master and student stood, blades locked over their heads for some time, each struggling with all their might. Jakome was physically stronger, but the apprentice's new hate-driven power afforded him a threatening opportunity, and he slid his saber down and away suddenly, leaving Jakome open for the briefest of moments. Jaster's blade cut down into his Master's cloak over Azekel's chest, and the Jedi grunted under the force and pain of the blow; he was knocked over backwards, and just rolled out of the way as the Mandalorian's blade stabbed viciously down into the rock where he had fallen. Standing slowly, the student eyed his Master with a sneer as Jakome backed away and took a few breaths to center himself.

With a sudden cry of rage, the Mandalorian again charged his Master, his red blade swinging impossibly fast around and around his wrists as he expertly switched hands in mid swing, providing a deadly shield/attack combination as he closed in on his Master. Jakome took another deep breath as Jaster closed in, focusing his energy on his muscles, the student's charge slowed somewhat as Azekel felt the force flow through his mental and physical being; allowing him superhuman speed and near-psychic reaction time. He stabbed quickly into the nearly infallible attack and just managed to catch Jaster's saber as it swung hard down on him; the Master twisted hard and used the force to push the youth backwards as Jaster stepped off balance to follow him. Surprised, the apprentice was knocked violently backwards towards the solid cliff wall. Unlike during their first fight, however, the apprentice drew on his newly acquired acrobatic lessons and flipped in midair with inhuman ease and precision, his boots hitting the wall instead of the back of his head. He kicked off from the wall with renewed force and hit the ground a few yards in front of his crouching Master, rolling over his shoulder and coming up with on his knees with an upwards swipe meant to disembowel the Jedi, who flipped backwards just in time and got his blade up to lock the student's relentless new charge.

"You're getting tired, Jakome, and I am still full of energy!" Jaster taunted as the two gritted their teeth against the strain. Jaster's momentum wore down on Jakome, whose feet slid ever so slightly over the rough earth. "Who is the Master, now?"

"Jaster, don't make me fight you …" Jakome begged his student; his first apprentice and now possibly his greatest failure. "What about all the progress you've made at the academy?" He reminded the student of his accomplishments in the Jedi arenas and on the force tests he'd mastered. "What about the people who care about you there?"

"What people?" Jaster spat, his blade bearing threateningly down on the tiring Master gradually, "_Nobody cares about me there!_"

Jakome sensed no obstruction behind him, and dropped suddenly backwards from the blade lock, rolling fast over his back just as his student's blade swooshed hard down into the rock where he had stood only a half a second ago. Leaping up onto a ledge over the arena, Jakome tried to catch his breath as he again entreated his apprentice.

"_I_ care about you, Jaster Mereel." He said, his brow furrowed in frustration; how could the hate be so strong in the youth that he could not sense the obvious? "Master Skywalker cares, Jaster, and Renak Glibbs, they are your allies against the dark side! Use their love and defeat your anger!" Jaster hesitated for only a moment, the feelings of comradeship he'd felt with Glibbs and the pride he'd secretly enjoyed in being considered one of Master Skywalker's best students.

"No!" He fought the feelings, "They don't give a damn about me! Renak didn't even _want_ me in his room!" Jakome's saber hissed off from his perch above the saber-ready apprentice below.

"That's a lie, Jaster; you know Renak cares about you." Jakome spoke calmly now, sensing his apprentice's faint understanding; he decided to go for the coup de grace, "What about Lena Gorakos, Jaster?" He asked quietly, and the stunned silence that followed told him his words had hit home. "Does Lena not care for you, Jaster? What would she say if she saw you now?"

"Lena …?" Jaster asked tentatively, the good feelings that arose from the thought of her winning out temporarily over his anger. "She would …"

"Put your saber down, Jaster, put it away for me, for Master Skywalker, and Renak," Jakome pleaded, his hand reaching out to comfort his struggling student from above. "put it away and we can go back to Lena and the academy where your friends are?" Mereel sobbed aloud and slumped, his saber still held tight in his hands.

"I have no friends there, Jakome …" He said, his voice cracking suddenly and his head slumping as he straightened and let his blade fall. "The students all hate me; I'm an outcast, a failure before I even enlisted …" The red saber hissed off as Jakome landed a few yards in front of his student, who sunk to his knees in the heat and cried openly. Jakome rushed with concern over to his apprentice and grabbed his shaking frame close to his chest, holding the trembling student in the violent atmosphere.

"Jaster, it's okay now, my student …" he comforted the sobbing Mandalorian with a soothing voice, "You've done it, Jaster! You've defeated your dark feelings! How many of those students back there do you think could withstand the trials you've undergone in so short a time?"

"Master …" Mereel choked back more tears unsuccessfully.

"Don't cry, Jaster, you've won the personal battle with the dark side, and you know now that you have friends and people who care about you to help you defeat it again!" Jakome's heart swelled with pride for his student, and relief flooded his body as the feelings of love and emotion overpowered his apprentice's anger. "with such strength and perseverance, you shall learn to overcome your feelings of hate without thinking; soon, my apprentice, you will be a great Jedi with such strength!"

"Jakome?" Jaster whispered, his tears drying and the moisture caking on his face in the oven-like heat.

"Yes?"

"I want to go back to the academy, Master." He said, then his voice found strength, "I want to be a Jedi Knight, and then I will find my brother again, and save him …"

"Your brother?" Jakome was confused as the pair stood again, and he braced his injured student at arms length. "You mean the other Mandalorian you sensed here?"

"No, Master Jakome, not just another Mandalorian," Jaster told him with a heavy tone, "He is my brother; I remember his presence from a time almost before memory …"


	15. A Sith finds an Apprentice

The Sith fled over the fields of volcanic rock, his feet racing over the treacherous terrain at a speed no normal humanoid could match. Twice the man almost fell into an exposed chasm of flowing magma, but his force-fueled premonition allowed him the insight to leap high and over the deadly surprises, landing hard on his booted feet and rolling over his knees, the reborn force user again had to fall back on his insight to roll hard to the right and avoid a sudden release of scalding volcanic gas from a fissure in his path near the last chasm. Rising from his knees, the man felt the hatred and adrenaline of the battle he'd just fled slowly ebb, giving way to exhaustion and heavy breaths.

"My brother …" He gasped, his mind struggling desperately to wrap around the distant and strangely elusive memories he had felt so strongly as he had faced the Mandalorian over the battlefield.

Pausing, the Sith instinctively reached out through the force to read the youth's movements, but felt only a strong feeling of hate and rage on the distantly familiar presence, and he mistook Jaster's battle-rage with his Master for his own dark feelings. Sighing, the Dark Jedi pressed on slowly, scanning the surrounding climate for some sign of civilization, or the Sith base the transport had carried him from. About an hour later, a very weary and extremely thirsty man clumped heavily into a deserted mineral mining colony along the outer rim of the massive volcanic area the Sith had hidden their headquarters in. Apparently deserted, the mine buildings bore the signs of a terrible explosion, most likely from some spontaneous volcanic explosion months earlier. A ship remained in the tiny, battered hangar, the only one with light-speed capabilities left intact by the massive cave-in of the heavy concrete roofing from the structure's demise. Strapping himself into the small cruiser's cramped cockpit, the weary Mandalorian Sith reviewed his pitiable situation; he was alone in the universe, even a stranger from his own past; to the Jedi he was a threat to be hunted and killed, and the other Sith on this planet would only seek to subject him to more mind-altering experiments to quell his newly arising independence, so he decided he'd best them all. Who needed a Master when you could have so much power for yourself?

Jaster Mereel stepped down from the starfighter hatch with a face set in grief and dismay; he'd attacked his master again, _again_ he'd given into the dark side, and this time he'd only just been brought back before he may have done something terrible. A shudder ran up his spine as a distant corner of his mind told him he wasn't disappointed for having _fought_ Azekel, but rather for having let him live …

Azekel Jakome strode down after his padawan from the starship, his face also set with the determination to face the council with news of the threat him and Jaster had uncovered; they had much bad news to bring to the Jedi Council. Jaster silently hoped his master would not tell the Council of his newest flirtation with the dark side, but inside he knew that at least Master Skywalker would find out by the end of the day, and that distant part of him seethed with anger at the prospect of being lectured to and further judged.

"By the gods, _Jaster!_" Lena's voice interrupted his thoughts as he looked up in surprise. "What's happened to your _face?_" Oh yeah, he remembered, _that_ …

"It's nothing, Lena."

"Sithspit, look at _you!_" it was Renak this time, following Lena's running form closely, "Who'd they send to give you _that?_ Darth Vader?" the Rodian exclaimed; he'd always been impressed by Jaster's sword skills; to see him come out apparently the worse was hard for the loyal roommate to imagine.

"I'll be fine, Renak." He sighed, his gloved fingers tracing the long, thick scar the Sith had given him, even as he fell beneath the Mandalorian's blade. The gnarled and burnt laceration traveled from his right cheek all the way up to his forehead just above his right eye; his melted and ruined helmet the only thing that had kept the Sith from ripping out his eye completely, or worse, killing him. Thankfully the scar would jump over his eye itself, the thick armor having protected the sensitive socket just enough to prevent serious damage, but for the moment Jaster was effectively blind out of his swollen right eye, but he let the force guide his right 'vision' as he made his way up the elevators with his friends. Jakome was going straight to the council, but had given his wounded apprentice strict orders to head directly to the infirmary. He decided it'd be best not to disobey his Master any more for the time being, and he went, his friends in tow, bickering over his minor wound.

By the time the sun had set on the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4, an unmarked ship had landed on the Corellian planet capital red light district; it's occupant walking resolutely into a bar a few blocks away from the hangars, leaving a dead customs official in a clump behind some storage boxes after the Corellian had tried to ask for the ship's identification and papers from the mysterious hooded traveler. On the flight over to the central-system, the Sith had decided to name himself Darth Diabolic, or, so as not to be detected by the Jedi, Juris H'layth, a name taken from a small shipping business whose boxes he'd hidden the customs official behind and the Juristice Gonorath gambling casino just outside the hangar he'd landed in.

Walking into the bar, Diabolic's force-tuned senses immediately picked up on the bustling life-forms sharing drinks, laughs, or threats across the main floor. He sidled up to the bar, next to a stunningly beautiful Twi'lek female with vibrant green skin, and her male counterpart, a rough, disheveled looking Twi'lek male with deep red pigmentation and a particularly altered force-aura; he was incredibly drunk. Ordering a tall glass of Rylothian liquor from the Ithorian barkeep, the Sith settled down to scan the room and it's many occupants; there were humanoids, a rodian, a few Ithorians, Twi'leks, a fe diminutive Sullustans and even a Nohgri, one of the aliens famous for it's keen senses and former service to Darth Vader as some of the galaxy's best assassins. His senses, however, kept drawing him back to the couple of Twi'leks next to him, who he settled to listen to with force-enhanced ears for a few minutes.

"Mya, Mya my love," the red-skinned male was addressing his companion affectionately, the Sith sensed a lot of affection came from the female, while the male was accented by apathy, "Why would I ever go to one of those awful brothels when I know that I have the hand of the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the whole of the galaxy?" The female, Mya, ebbed in her feelings, _she was falling for that load of shit?_

"I just don't know if I can trust you, Hanorak," she replied, though without much conviction; the Sith didn't have to use the force to see the drunk's mind, he was lying, and happy about getting away with it. The Twi-lek Hanorak stood unsteadily and smiled.

"Let me go order you another glass of Corellian wine, my dear, and we can talk more about this when we can be alone." He suggested, moving off. The female, astonishingly, smiled and nodded shyly. The Sith couldn't believe it, but, as the drunk's powerful aura waned with his departure, his Jedi-like senses picked up on another, more astonishing revelation; the female Twi'lek was a force-sensitive. He shifted in his stool, turning to get a better look at her. The alien woman was indeed quite beautiful, as most of her kind were known for; slender and curvaceous, gentle features belying grace and usually a cunning intellect; though Diabolic's observations told him this girl wasn't particularly clear-minded, though force sensitive. Twi'leks had distinct extra-sensory organs in the form of two long, thick tentacles emanating from the base of their skulls, yet somehow the race had always appealed to humanoids of all species for their outstanding grace and beauty. This female, Mya, sat alone and twirled her small finger around and around the rim of her half empty glass of wine; her thoughts betraying her still doubtful thoughts about her boyfriend, but she was ever-slipping towards relenting her suspicions.

"Ahem," The self-titled Sith Lord cleared his throat pointedly. The girl looked up, a curious expression on her face, but the Sith remained concentrated on his glass, his hood still up. She looked away, a slight frown played across her features at the interruption. "You know he's lying, don't you?" Diabolic finally said a moment later. Her head snapped back up to look at him.

"What?" _Anger, probably at being interrupted,_ he sensed.

"Your boyfriend, he's lying to you." Diabolic offered her offhandedly, still not meeting her icy stare, sipping at the hard liquor as if it were merely water. "Wonderful drink, you know? A credit to your planet."

"Ryloth liquor? Yes, it's – wait a minute!" the girl flustered, distracted, "What do you mean he's lying? Have you been listening to our entire conversation?" She demanded; _indignation, good_.

"It's pretty hard not to hear you," the man told her, sensing her boyfriend's presence over by the wine rack across the bar. "You are sitting right next to me." The woman's hands went to her hips as she turned to face him with an angry frown.

"Well, I'm sorry we are bothering you, Mr. Eavesdrop!" She replied sarcastically.

"Please, call me H'layth. Juris H'layth." He said, turning to face her for the first time with a fleeting smile. Her boyfriend was flirting with another of the Twi'lek females seated around the dancing stage next to the wine rack now. "I just wanted to let you know you can't trust your boyfriend, that's all. He's going behind your back, even as we speak." Instead of looking around to see the alien's infidelity, the female just sat there, staring at the Dark Jedi; disgust and loathing written plainly across her face.

"And _how_, may I ask, do you know that he's lying?" She asked, "I suppose you're one of those drugged out psychics I can get to read my palm for twenty credits in a back alley?"

"No, I'm only a Jedi." He replied, looking back down at his drink nonchalantly before adding, "Well, not _exactly_ …"

"A … _Jedi?_" The female asked, her anger giving ever so slightly to interest before disbelief settled back in. "Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm more like a force-sensitive who … knows what he's about." Darth Diabolic explained in an offhand manner. "A force-sensitive like _you_; only more in tune …"

_Shock_. The Twi'lek stared at him, her eyes and thoughts betraying her apprehension at his mention of the force-sensitivity that virtually enveloped them at the bar.

"How did you know …" She asked slowly, guardedly with a wary look. He smiled.

"Check out your boyfriend." He said, without even looking at the despicable Twi'lek over by the dancers. "He's quite the lady-killer, isn't he?" It took a moment, but Mya's cry of outrage and despair nearly stopped the bar completely. The Sith shook his head sympathetically as he slid closer to the Twi'lek woman after the boyfriend had been dismissed with finality.

"It's alright," He consoled, "How could you have known?" he patted her back gently as her slumped shoulder shook and tears rolled down her pretty face as she cried into her arms over the bar. She looked up as a wine bottle floated over to their seats and uncorked itself in midair, a phantom hand pouring the red liquid into her half-empty glass, which slid as if pushed by an invisible hand to rest against her thin, feminine wrist. Her tears stopped as she watched in astonishment and wonder.

"How do you do that?" She asked her companion in awe. He grinned, his eyes glowing in the dim of the poorly-lit tavern. The Ithorian barkeep searched in vain for the missing bottle of wine across the room.

"I can show you."


	16. Kyle Katarn

Mya slumped, exhausted against the far wall of the warehouse chamber the Sith Lord had chosen to call his headquarters on Corellia. The Twi'lek female sighed, frustrated as her lightsaber, a relic the Sith had picked up in a pawn shop for an incredibly low price since it hadn't worked when he'd bought it, snapped off in her hands.

"I'm sorry, H'layth; I'm just too tired." The young alien complained; she'd just been disarmed for the third time in a row, and easily. "I've been working all day, and I haven't gotten any better at all, only worse!"

Diabolic knelt down at her side, his hand reaching out to comfort his new apprentice. Now was not the time for anger and motivation, he knew; she was too new to the force to be pushed too far all at once; it had only been a month since he'd met her in the tavern in the red light district and convinced her to study with him. To be honest, the Sith didn't even know how he'd even learned to do the things he was teaching her; he'd opened his eyes that day not long ago in the dark laboratory and had just … _known_.

"You've done well for a beginner." He told her, and in fact she had; the force was with her, but undisciplined and largely untapped. "Don't expect to learn everything overnight; it takes a long time." He said as she fondled her lightsaber hilt absently, her eyes glued to the ground.

"How long did it take you to learn all that you know, Master H'layth?" She aske,d looking up at him suddenly, "Are you one of the new Jedi Masters I've heard about on Yavin 4?" The Sith blinked in surprise.

"No." He said, "I'm no Jedi, Mya." She looked confused, even slightly suspicious.

"No?" She asked, "Then how do you know the things you do? You move like I've heard a Jedi does; you can do things I never thought were possible."

"I use the force, true, but I do not share the weakness of the Jedi."

"Weakness?" The Twi'lek laughed, "Jedi don't have weaknesses! They were the Republic's most unstoppable warriors!" She exclaimed with a bright smile that died as she glimpsed the look on her Master's face.

"The Jedi," He said, "Are strong, true, but their mindset is weak; they use the force to protect the weak and unworthy, even allowing those wretched creatures into their ranks."

"But …"

"They think the force is a shield to protect these worthless charges, and not the weapon it is to empower the strong; to grant superiority to those strong enough to reach for it."

"Yes, Master." She replied softly, nodding slightly, "I suppose it is quite useful …"

"It is _very _useful, Mya," he smiled again, "And I will teach you to use its true power to force your will over those who would seek to harm you for your differences."

"Differences?"

"You are unique, my apprentice," He said, feeling awkward at calling the girl his apprentice; she was, after all, to all appearances, about his age. She was twenty-four. "The force is strong in you, Mya, and there are many enemies out there who would seek to harm you simply for this reason; that you are gifted and they are not. That they are weak." He believed this, but it was somehow hard to explain it to this young Twi'lek; she seemed so … innocent, he almost felt _bad_ for his intentions on teaching her the dark side. She went back to toying with her lightsaber absently.

"Come, stand up, Mya." He said, standing himself and holding out his hand. She took it and rose quickly with a small smile, her face just inches in front of his own. Enter awkwardness. He turned away on the pretense of coughing, and walked a short distance away, his hand falling away from hers as she looked back down to the ground. He sensed … disappointment in the young alien. _Great,_ he thought, _my apprentice has a crush on me_.

"Should I retire, Master H'layth?" She asked from behind him. He turned, looked her over, and sensed her new resolution to impress him. She was tired, but determination shone in her eyes still.

"Show me the first set, standard attack, once more, then you may rest." He told her, and her lightsaber snapped up almost immediately as she sunk into the correct pose. She began striking, her eyes focused and intent on the room around her as he sensed the focus in her mind, enhanced by the force, she would make a great warrior when properly trained, and, in the meantime, he was constantly practicing his own strange skills, exploring deeper the depth of the dark side at his command.

"Good," He told her, "Good! Faster, _faster!_ Use the force; it can give you new speed!" And the girl sped up, her body beginning to blur as he felt her mind open to the atmosphere of the warehouse, allowing the power of the force to ever so slightly flow through her limbs. He smiled.

Jaster Mereel sat in meditation in the study chamber of the Jedi Academy, many lightyears away. Long ago the bacta chambers had healed his swollen and now scarred eye, and he'd already begun reconstructing his helmet; welding the wires and frame back together to readjust his various visual enhancement devices and readouts displays. The project was all but complete, and the young apprentice had retired to the study lounges outside of the Academy library to get his mind off the complicated wires and parts. He thought back to the mysterious Sith he'd encountered on Sadomine Prime; the Mandalorian who all Jaster's senses had told him bore an even closer relation to him than that of the same race. He had sensed a deep familiarity with the older man, though to all his knowledge Jaster Mereel was an orphan without a family or even an existing people to call his own. He never thought he'd had any brothers; until now. The feeling had been too strong to deny, and the Mandalorian cringed at the horrible corruption and warped hatred he'd felt emanating from the Sith towards him. He had sensed great confusion and conflict in the Sith's mind, as well; almost as if he hadn't known who or what he really was; almost as if all he had known was unconditional hatred.

"Jaster Mereel?" The apprentice sensed the new presence a second before the doors hissed open and the voice hailed him from across the room.

"Yeah?" He asked, opening his eyes; the force was strong with this presence, though he doubted he'd ever felt it before.

He saw in front of him a man of medium-height with dark brown hair that joined graying sideburns and a managed but still long beard and moustache. The man's eyes were gentle and kind, but denoted a strong mind and resolve behind them that contradicted his easygoing, relaxed posture in the doorway. He wore simple trousers and boots with a thick long shirt all topped off with a dark brown leather shoulder strap that crossed his chest and connected to his worn belt. A blaster and a lightsaber hung from either side of the belt. The man crossed the room to extend a calloused hand and a warm smile to Mereel.

"The name's Katarn," He introduced himself, "Kyle Katarn." Jaster almost couldn't believe his ears. Kyle Katarn was a name much read about and referenced in the Academy's history logs of recent Jedi history, and most of the students knew the history by heart. Kyle Katarn grew up on one of the moons in the Sullust system, reaching an appropriate age; the teenager had enlisted in and joined the Imperial Army out of the system Academy. Unbeknownst to him, Katarn's father, Morgan Katarn, was in fact a Rebel spy. After Morgan had been betrayed by one of his many contacts, the man was killed, and his death was covered up from one of the Empire's most promising young commanders, Kyle. Kyle was told his father had been killed by Rebel spies, implanting the young commander with a terrible hatred for the Rebellion against the Empire. It was not until Rebel sympathizer and part-time spy Jan Orrs told Katarn the truth about his father's death that the man began his career smuggling, spying, and generally fighting in support of the Rebel Alliance as an expertly trained Imperial deserter.

Later, Katarn had found out he was a force-sensitive and had begun to use the force under the guidance of his own digression and some wary advice of Master Luke Skywalker. After defeating the powerful Dark Jedi Jarek at the still-hidden Valley of the Jedi, the Jedi potential abandoned his force training for fear of the Dark Side and didn't embrace it again until the recent Dark Jedi uprising of Desann; a corrupted Jedi who'd used the Valley of the Jedi to artificially empower unlucky captives and Imperial remnant troops with the power of the force. Katarn, working with Luke Skywalker and the Jedi Academy students of several years ago, had defeated Desann and the way-ward hero had chosen to fully embrace again his force-sensitivity, and had been working closely with Master Skywalker and the Academy ever since, though Jaster had never met him before.

"Master Katarn!" The Mandalorian stood to address the New Republic hero, and gave a short bow. Mereel had always preferred Katarn's history to most of the other Masters he'd read about; the Jedi had one of the more interesting stories in the archives, and had accomplished quite a lot even before realizing he was a force-sensitive.

"Please, kid, spare me the formality!" Katarn laughed, "I just got back from the New Senate headquarters, I've had enough of Mr. this and Master that; just call me Kyle …" Mereel liked the Jedi even more than ever after hearing that.

"Sorry; that's what they teach us here." Jaster apologized with a grin, "I've read so much about you and I've got to say it's a pretty big honor to meet you face to face." Katarn smirked at that.

"I'd like to see what old Skywalker has written about me sometime; I've never really been a big fan of his earlier records." Jaster could barely contain his laughter; Skywalker, for all his knowledge as a Jedi Master, wasn't always the most exciting writer when it came to the records.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Kyle?" the Mandalorian asked next, curious as to how and why the legendary hero of the New Republic apparently had come to see him. Katarn seated himself and motioned for Mereel to follow.

"Actually, I'm here to talk to you for our good friend Master Jakome." The Jedi began, and Jaster's enthusiasm abruptly died. "I've heard quite a bit about your … tendencies, as well as your interesting origins."

"He told you to scold me, then?" Jaster could barely believe it; he gets one chance to talk to one of his most enamored of the Jedi it turns out Jakome just wanted to lecture him again, through somebody else.

"Scold you?" Katarn looked confused, "No, no, I don't do that stuff very well; I'm here because Master Jakome has asked me to talk to you about the Dark Side of the force."

"So … you're here to scold me." Mereel was lost; it was obvious Jakome had told the Council about his recent behavior on Sodomine Prime, but why was Katarn trying to avoid the issue? Katarn was laughing.

"Look, kid; Azekel told me you've been having some troubles with controlling your temper, and he didn't want to bring it up with the Council directly. He told me about it and asked if I could come talk to you about it." The Jedi told Jaster, "It might not be so highlighted in my history records, but I've had quite a hard time resisting the Dark Side myself, and Azekel figured he didn't have the sort of … personal background I've had to really let you know the dangers of misusing the force."

"Jakome didn't think …" Jaster was confused; his Master usually acted like he knew it all, "he _knew _enough?"

"Not many Jedi today have had the sorts of conflicts I've had with the Dark Side, Jaster." Katarn was becoming serious, and Jaster was loosening up now that the scolding was out of the question; _this might be interesting_. "I grew up with a lot of anger, and the hatred was all I had when I learned about the Empire's betrayal of me, right around the time I first started learning to communicate with the force …"


	17. A Kiss Between Professionals

The nights on Corellia were cold in this season; the winter setting in over the vast cityscape of the capital area, and H'layth shivered slightly as he surveyed the glimmering buildings in the cold night. His warehouse hideout would do for now, but he was constantly searching for a better location to continue his training of Mya; who was a promising student, if not a bit … informal. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the force, and reached out through it, above the cloudy, starless sky, into space and out into the galaxy; searching.

Jaster Mereel blinked away sleepiness in the Jedi Academy courtyards, many lightyears away, his hands resting on the opening pages of a book detailing the known history of the Sith and Jedi wars, many centuries ago. After finding himself unable to sleep, and his roommate drifting off to sleep early in preparations for his apprentice trials the following week, Mereel had found himself wander back to the Academy Archives, conveniently open all hours. The late night service droid rolled silently up to him, but the Jedi apprentice sensed it's presence as it rounded the near shelves and wasn't surprised when its mechanical voice addressed him a moment later.

"Are you in need of any further assistance, Master Mereel?" the droid asked, always wanting to serve. Again, Mereel wiped his weary eyes and shook his head.

"No, K-H5, I think I'll be fine, thank you." He replied as he read on about the valiant crusades of the ancient Jedi in the uncharted regions of space; warring the Sith Lords who based themselves there. His mind only followed part of the story; most of his thoughts were on the mysterious Sith who'd accosted him on Sadomine, then disappeared so quickly. Who had he been? How had he found his way to the Sith planet, and, if he was who Jaster felt he was, why did the Mandalorian have no recollection of him from the past? He pondered over these questions as he thumbed absently through the pages of the books in front of him, the dim library lights numbing his mind and inducing a sleepy state …

H'layth felt a disturbance. _The young one!_ He was … far away, but the presence was unmistakable, and the Sith's mind leapt from it's lackadaisical scanning of the force to concentrate every bit of his consciousness on that weak, faraway aura …

Jaster suddenly sat bolt upright, his mind tingling with a familiar, though weak memory. Concentrating, the Jedi searched the Academy subconsciously for some sign of the Sith's presence, but found nothing; the sense remained. Wherever the man was, he was alive, and trying to locate or contact Jaster through the force. _Where are you?_ Mereel begged the weak presence through the force, committing all he had to the struggling beacon. There was no reply, and the Jedi tried several times more with no more luck. _Who_ are you?

H'layth received a strong reciprocation from the Jedi's tiny presence, but words failed him as he struggled, curious, to hear the young one's thoughts. Then it came to him, in a rush; _Who are you?_ The Sith smiled.

_I am Lord Juris H'layth, but you may call me Darth Diabolic, if you so wish._

The Jedi took his time in replying.

_H'layth?_ The Jedi pondered, _Isn't that the name of a shipping company for spare parts based in the inner core?_

The Sith paused, taken aback; the young one knew his name was a farce.

_No …_ he tried evasively, but the Jedi was quick to pick up on his thoughts, and they betrayed his uncertainty.

_Yes, it is. The company ships parts to the Academy for repairs on our cruisers._ The youth told him with triumph, but then his feelings changed; _You don't have a real name, do you?_

The Sith was struggling now, his brow breaking out in sweat as he searched for more lies to cover the unsettling truth the Jedi was slowly unraveling, but before he could even think to mask it, the name that had haunted him since his awakening appeared …

_Mereel …_

The Jedi's thoughts abruptly halted, frozen in shock, the young Mandalorian quickly jumped on the slip.

_Your name is Mereel, Sith. You are a Mandalore, and you are my brother!_

More triumph.

_How do you know anything, Jedi child! What does a simple name mean to you and your sad, extinct race? You know nothing of me!_

The Sith was becoming angry, his hate corrupting the force medium they now used to communicate, and the messages became weaker still, harder to decipher. Jaster made one final effort, focusing all he had left to send the crucial information to the faraway Sith.

_I know for sure now, Sith._ His message told H'layth, _My name is Jaster Mereel; and I am the last of the Mandalorians no longer!_

Jaster collapsed with exhaustion onto the library desk, his books clattering to the floor and sending the robotic assistant zooming to his side.

"Master Mereel, are you quite alright?" The droid asked, his programmed concern sounding false and overemphasized, even as he helped the young Jedi to his seat. Jaster, however, was smiling, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I'm fine, K-H5," he said under his breath, "I've never felt better."

H'layth was distraught; he knew for sure now what he had felt all along; the Jedi child _was_ a relation of his, but he still could not pull the child's memory from his consciousness. He figured he needed time, and sleep, especially after that latest of strains. Making his way back into the warehouse, he sensed another, familiar presence inside, and for the first time that night, his weary face broke in a shade of a smile. Mya was up, and she was practicing. Sneaking into the designated lightsaber area, the Sith began to watch as his apprentice went over her katas and stances, taking breaks every so often to allay the deep sleepiness he could sense creeping in on her consciousness. The Twi'lek had been pushing herself very hard to prove herself to him, and H'layth admitted silently to himself that he had probably not given her much of a rest at all in the past few months; he wondered how long she had been getting up late at night like this to practice some more.

"Mya," he finally called to her as she slumped down to relax after the final strike of the most difficult set slashed through the cool air of the open room. She jumped, and fixed her Master with a look of guilt and apprehension. "Very good, Mya, though I wonder if you aren't pushing yourself too hard."

"I couldn't sleep," She yawned, a pitiful excuse, but H'layth accepted it for her sake. "I decided to come and … practice a bit more."

"So I see." He chuckled, leaping down to the hard floor from the catwalks above, "and how long have these practices been going on without my knowing?"

"Oh, only this once, Juris, I promise!" She was so innocent, and his eyes must have left her feeling stripped bare. "… and a few other times, usually only on the first and third days of the week." She added quickly.

"Well, you are progressing fine, and the skill and determination you've shown me are admirable." The Master conceded, "I want you to be healthy and rested for when we can finally begin to make our presence known." Mya's beautiful green-shaded face lit up in delight.

"Oh, _when_, Juris? When?" She begged, "I am ready to fight the Jedi now!" She cried happily, obviously not knowing the danger and importance of such a declaration. She was good, but the Jedi would kill her, he was sure; he wasn't even so sure _he_ could take on that Mandalorian child again, with the strong feelings he brought to the table. Not yet.

"No, Mya, the Jedi can wait," He said, and she frowned, hanging her head, as if she thought she had failed him somehow. "There are more … pressing matters to attend to than the Jedi at the present moment."

"Like what, Juris?" She asked, walking over to him as he took a seat in one of the few chairs he'd stolen to furnish the huge room. He didn't really care anymore that she called him by his first name; it was fake, in any case.

"There are others in the galaxy, nearby, at that, who think that _they _can weild the power of the dark side. They call themselves Sith, but they are weak; I have seen them die by the handfuls at the hands of the Jedi, and they first must be your test, my _own_ test, before we begin to confront the Jedi." Mya lit up again, and he closed his eyes to savor her rising anger and hatred of the 'Sith' who had captured and seemingly erased his memory. Her hate even felt good, he thought with an inner smile. He barely noticed in his weariness the Twi'lek's silent approach. He opened his eyes in a start as he fingers slid down over his shoulders.

"What are you doing, Mya?" He asked in a whisper, shocked to find that he was aroused, somewhat. He felt more than saw her smile, and a low voice sounded close to his ear;

"Why so tense, Master Juris?" He was stunned as she began to massage his shoulders gently, working at muscles that refused to relax under her fingers. "I'm trying to help you relax, that's all." She slid around his side, his hands gripping the chair's armrests so hard his knuckles were white. "Unless," she said, her wonderful face now in view, and so close! "you want something more?"

H'layth had never kissed a woman before that he knew of, and having had his mind wiped clean around the age of twenty five was probably a big reason for that, but the Sith was fairly certain he'd never kissed a Twi'lek before. Until now, that is. Mya kissed him feverishly, her lips pressed against his own, prying his slowly open … then …

"No!" he pulled away, making sure to keep his hands on her shoulders as he gently pushed her away, and nowhere lower. "Mya, I can't do this." He thought he'd made himself clear with that, but the alien only shrugged.

"Fine," she said, "I'll just do it, then." And she was kissing him again, taking him by surprise so that he nearly fell over backwards out of the chair. He again wrestled her gently away.

"_We_ can't do this, my _apprentice_." He stressed the word, invoking the formality that had just died in their … relationship. The girl looked guilty now, ashamed, and the Sith couldn't bring himself to really scold her, plus he was fairly certain even a non-force-sensitive could have seen that he had enjoyed part of it.

"I'm, so sorry, Master H'layth." She managed to gasp out, her eyes watering up with small tears. He was still too shocked to do anything, and he wouldn't know what to do, anyway, so he did nothing as she stammered out about a few more random, nonsensical feelings she had, then turned and fled to her chambers.

"By the force," H'layth gasped, relaxing finally, "What the hell am I going to do if she tries that again?" He didn't even know for sure if a human and a Twi'lek _could_ … he shuddered the thought away and stood, walking to his own chamber, across the room, and far enough away from Mya so he didn't have to hear her crying, if she still was.


End file.
